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S>74. 


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NEW-YORK 


^ JOHN-W* Lovell - Co;apany + 

■ ^. T T-: 1 4 ri6 VESEY STREET 




^EKLYPUBLICATIO^^ OF THE BEST CURRENTT ?iSTAKDf\RD LITERMURE 


Vol. !!• No. 674. April 27, 1S83. Amuial SuVscriplloii, $3C.(iO. 


Entered at the Post Office, N. Y., as second-class matter. 
Copyrij^ht, 1SS4, by John W. Lovkll Co. 


T. S. ARTHUR 

Author of “WORDS FOR THE WISE,” 
“ STORIES FOR PARENTS,” “MAR- 
RIED LIFE,” Etc. 


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JOHN W. LOVELL CO., 14 Vesey Street, New Yor 


STORIES 


roB 


YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 



NEW YORK: 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY, 
14 AND 16 Vesey Street. 





Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1851, bf 
T. S. ARTHUR A (XA 

tathe Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of 
Pennsylvania. 


TROW’3 

PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY, 
NEW YORK. 


•'4- ■■ I 


PREFACE. 


There are very few young housekeepers who may 
not profit, in a degree, by the experience of those who 
have already met some of the trials to which their new 
position naturally subjects them. For such, the pic- 
tures of domestic life here presented, drawn in the 
colours of truth by fancy’s pencil, may have more than 
a passing interest. While some of them excite a smile, 
others will afibrd subjects for serious thought; and all 
may be read, the author thinks, without involving a 
waste of time, — an error into which he would be sorry 
to lead any one, either young or old. 

This makes the sixth volume in our “Library for 
THE Household.” 


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CONTENTS, 


PAca 

Where the Money Gobs 7 

A Bad PIabit Cured 27 

Spoiling a Good Dinner 44 

Opening an Account 68 

Mr. and Mrs. Sunderland’s Experiences : 

Agreeable Neighbours 76 

Saving at the Spigot 89 

Mt Wife’s Party 97 

The House-cleaning 107 

Doing as Other People.. 118 

What will People Say? 137 

It’s Only a Dollar 166 

Hiring a Servant 188 


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STORIES 


FOK 

YOUIG HOUSEKEEPERS. 


WHEKE THE MONEY GOBS. 


There was one thing that Mr. Barnaby could not. 
as he said, figure out;^^ and that was, where all ais 
money went to. He was not extravagant ; nor could 
such a charge be brought against any member of his 
family. They did not give parties in winter, nor 
go to the Springs nor the sea-shore during the 
summer season. They did not keep a carriage, nor 
buy fine furniture, nor indulge in costly dressing. 
And yet, though Mr. Barnaby’ s annual receipts were 
in the neighbourhood of two thousand dollars a 
year, the thirty-first of December usually found him 
with an empty purse. This was the more surprising, 
as the Malcolms, next door, indulged in many things 
which the Barnabys would have considered extrava- 
gant; though the Malcolms had an income of only 
fifteen hundred dollars per annum. And, what was 


8 


WHERE THE MONEY GOES. 


more, Malcolm was putting three hundred dollars in 
the Savings bank every year. 

I can’t figure it out,’' said Mr. Barnaby, one 
Newyear’s eve, as he footed up the cash column of 
his annual expenses. Two thousand and sixty odd 
dollars have gone since last December. But where 
has it gone ? that’s the question.” 

‘^Fm sure I haven’t spent it,” meekly replied 
Mrs. Barnaby, who always felt, when any allusion 
was made to the amount of money expended, as if 
her husband designed to charge her with extrava- 
gance. 

know that, Aggy,” said Mr. Barnaby, who 
understood, in a moment, how his wife felt. 
know that you haven’t spent any thing more than 
is necessary. But, for all that, the cost of living has 
been enormous. We have only two more in family 
than Malcolm, whose salary is but fifteen hundred 
dollars ; and what is altogether unaccountable, while 
I haven’t ten dollars in my pocket, he has three 
hundred dollars of his year’s salary snugly deposited 
in the Savings bank.” 

I can’t understand it,” sighed Mrs. Barnaby. 

I’m sure we don’t indulge in any extravagances. 
We haven’t bought an article of new furniture 
during the year; while the Malcolms have had a 
oeautiful sofa, a set of candelabras, a large mahogany 
rocking-chair, and a dressing bureau for which they 
paid twenty-five dollars.” 


WHERE THE MONET GOES. 


5 


I don’t know how it is !” said Mr. Barnaby 

And that isn’t all,” continued his wife. Mrs. 
Malcolm has bought her an elegant muff and boa, a 
velvet mantilla, and a pin and bracelet worth twenty- 
five dollars.” 

It’s unaccountable ! We have had none of these 
things, and yet our expenses outrun theirs some eight 
hundred dollars ! It really makes me unhappy. There 
is a leak somewhere; but, though ^l^have searched 
for it long and anxiously, I cannot find it out.” 

Still, we must remember,” said Mrs. Barnaby, 
^^that we have two more in family, and one of them 
an extra servant, whose wages and board do not 
come to less than a hundred and fifty dollars a year; 
and the additional child will swell the sum, put the 
expense at the lowest possible point, to two hundred 
and twenty-five dollars. Then we pay seventy -five 
dollars more rent than the Malcolms. So, you see, 
that in these three items, we make up a sum of 
three hundred dollars.” 

Yes, but that isn’t eight hundred.” 

^‘No, although it is a very important sum for 
which I have accounted. Half of it I have resolved 
to save. Mrs. Malcolm does with two girls, and I 
ought to get along with the same number. I’ll send 
Hannah away next week.” 

‘^Indeed, Aggy, you will do no such thing,” re- 
plied Mr. Barnaby, in a positive voice. “ You’re 
worn down with the toil and care of the children, as 


10 . 


WHERE THE MONEY GOES. 


it is, and must not think of dispensing with Hannah 
That would be a poor way to save.” 

“ But I don’t see why I can’t do with less help as 
well as other people. There is Mrs. Jones, over the 
way, with as many children as I have, and she only 
keeps one servant.” 

I am sorry for her j that is all I have to say on 
the subject. Her husband’s income is less than half 
what I receive , We can afford three domestics as 
well as they can afford one. No, no, Aggy. If we 
are to retrench at any point, it must not be in the 
one you propose.” 

“ I see no other way of reducing our expenses,” 
sighed Mrs. Barnaby. 

‘‘ Then let them go on as they are going, and we 
will be thankful for an income sufficient to meet our 
wants.” 

‘^But we ought to be saving something. We 
ought to be laying up three or four hundred dollars 
every year.” 

I wish we could do so. However, as we cannot, 
there is no use in making ourselves unhappy in con- 
sequence. We shall be as well off fifty years hence 
as though we laid by a thousand dollars per annum.” 

Mrs. Barnaby looked serious and unhappy, as she 
sat, without replying to her husband’s last remark ; 
while Mr. Barnaby, regretting now that he had in- 
troduced the subject, sought to change it for one 
that was more agreeable. His efforts to do so were 


WHERE THE MONEY GOES. 


u 


not very successful, and the evening of the New- 
year was passed in reflections that were far from 
being pleasant to either party. 

Although neither Mr. nor Mrs. Barnahy were able 
to answer the question, Where does the money go 
we think the reader will be at no loss to “ figure 
out'^ the matter, after we enlighten him a little as 
to the mode in which the financial affairs of the 
family were conducted. 

On the morning that succeeded to the evening on 
which we have introduced Mr. and Mrs. Barnaby, 
the former, as was his custom, went to market. As 
he walked along, he run over in his mind the various 
articles he must purchase ; and being in something 
of an economical mood, he summed up the amount 
they would probably cost. When he left the market- 
house, he had spent three dollars instead of a dollar 
and three quarters, which latter sum had fully 
covered, in his previous estimate, all the articles that 
were really wanted. How the additional dollar and 
a quarter came to be added, was in this wise. A loin 
of veal had been determined upon, which was not to 
cost over sixty-five cents; but a fine fat pair of 
chickens met his eyes, and the cost was only twenty- 
two cents more than the veal, which was such a trifle 
that he decided at once in favour of the chickens. 
Having bought the chickens, to add a bundle of 
celery and a quart of cranberries was the most natu- 
ral thing in the world, and these took twenty cents 


12 


WHERE THE MONEY GOES. 


more, to say nothing of the pound of sugar at eight 
cents, that would be required to sweeten the cran- 
berries. The man who had the chickens to sell had 
also some very nice honey, the sight of which created 
in the mind of Mr. Barnaby the desire to have some. 
The price was twenty-five cents a pound j though what 
of that? Mr. Barnaby had no means of taking it 
home, but Mr. Barnaby was a man of expedients. Ho 
never liked to be foiled in any thing, and was, there 
fore, rarely at a loss for some mode of accomplishing 
his ends. Just across from the market-house was the 
shop of a tinman ; and, as Mr. Barnaby looked up, he 
saw the bright tin kettles, of all sizes and shapes, 
hanging before his door. 

“ I have it,’^ said he, speaking aloud his thoughts. 

Such articles are always useful in a family.” 

So he walked across to the tinman^ s, and bought 
a small kettle, for which he paid thirty-one cents, 
and then walked back and had a pound of honey 
placed therein, for which he paid twenty-five cents 
more. After he had purchased what vegetables he 
had designed getting, some dried Lima beans pre- 
sented themselves, and a quart was taken, as the 
price was but fifteen cents. Some cakes and candies 
for the children took a shilling more. Thus it was 
that three dollars were spent, instead of one dollar 
and three quarters, the sum at first decided upon as 
sufficient. 

When Mr. Barnaby went to market, he put five 


WHERE THE MONEY GOES. 


13 


dollars in his pocket. On returning home and 
counting over his change, he could find but two. 

^^That can’t be,” he said to himself, searching 
first in one pocket and then in another. I haven’t 
spent three dollars.” 

But nowhere could he turn up another copper. 

Somebody must have given me wrong change.” 
This was the most reasonable conclusion to which 
he could come, after adding up the cost of the various 
articles purchased, and forgetting to include the tin 
kettle, the cakes and candies for the children, and 
the quart of Lima beans. 

Hadn’t you better take your umbrella with you ?” 
said Mrs. Barnaby to her husband, as the latter 
prepared to leave for his place of business. It 
looks very much like a storm.” 

Mr. Barnaby opened the door and glanced up at 
the sky. 

I don’t think it will rain.” 

^^It will be wisest to take your umbrella. If it 
don’t rain, no harm will be done , and if it should 
rain, you will save yourself from being wet.” 

Mr. Barnaby paused a moment to think, and then 
said, as he stepped out, I’ll risk it.” 

On his way to his office, Mr. Barnaby passed a 
window in which were some very handsome bouquets 
of artificial flowers made from tissue-paper. He 
paused to admire, and then went in to ask the price 

VI.— 2 


14 


WHERE THE MONEY GOES. 


Once inside of the store in which the bouquets were 
sold, and in the power of a saleswoman who knew 
her- man the moment he entered, there was no such 
thing as retiring without becoming the owner of a 
splendid bunch of flowers, at the moderate cost of 
fifty cents, which the shop-woman promised to send 
home immediately. 

“Cheap enough,” said Barnaby to himself, as he 
left the shop. “ How many dollars have I spent in 
real flowers that faded, and became worthless in a 
day ; but these will retain their beauty for years. 
Aggy will be delighted with them !” . 

During the morning, Mr. Barnaby had occasion 
to purchase some articles of stationery. While 
waiting to have them made up into a package, after 
selecting what he wanted, he commenced looking 
over the books that were displayed upon the counter. 

“Just the thing for Tom,” he said aloud, as he 
opened a book containing a number of gayly-painted 
pictures. “ How much is it ?” 

“ Only thirty-seven and a half cents.” 

“ You may tie it up for me.” And he tossed the 
book to the man who stood behind the counter. 

Before twelve o’clock, the rain, which Mr. Bar- 
naby’ s wife had predicted, began to fall. At one, 
it was still coming down freely, and at two, Mr. 
Barnaby’s dinner hour, there was no sign of abate- 
ment. Mr. Barnaby opened the door of his ofiice 
and gazed up at the leaden sky ; he then looked 


WHERE THE MONEY GOES. 


15 


across the street, and saw, hanging before a door, 
just the article he wanted— an umbrella. To get 
possession of this article, he must, of course, pur- 
chase it. But he had two umbrellas at home now. 

What if I have said he to himself, as the 
fact was presented to his mind. It is here that 1 
want an umbrella.'’ 

Not long was the question of buying another 
umbrella debated. He couldn’t lose his dinner, 
especially as a fine pair of fat chickens were to be 
served; and it was raining too hard to think of 
venturing on the journey home without some pro- 
tection. He might go home in a cab for fifty cents ; 
but then the half dollar would be gone as certainly 
as if it were thrown into the street. If, on the con- 
trary, he were to buy an umbrella, even though it 
cost more, he would be in possession of a useful 
article, that would have to be bought, as the natural 
result of the wear and tear of those he now had on 
hand, bfefore a twelvemonth elapsed. Moreover, he 
reflected, for as large a family as his, three or four 
umbrellas were almost indispensable. 

Arrived at this conclusion, Mr. Barnaby ran 
across the street, and supplied himself with a cheap 
cotton umbrella, at an expense of seventy-five cents. 

Where (foes the money go?” said Mr. Barnaby 
that evening, as he searched his pockets, and could 
find but a solitary sixpence remaining of the cash 
he had taken from his secretary in the morning 


16 


WHERE THE MONEY GOES. 


" I can’t understand it. Certainly I have not spent 
five dollars.’^ Then he took a piece of paper and 
his pencil, and tried to figure it up.^^ But he did 
not get beyond four dollars ; and he would almost 
have taken his oath that he had not spent a copper 
more. As for the deficit, that must have occurred 
through his having received wrong change. 

Here the reader has a history of one day’s spend- 
ings ; and he will perceive that from two to three 
dollars passed from the hands of Mr. Barnaby that 
had better have remained in his possession. A system 
like this, pursued every day in the year, would use 
up from six hundred to nine hundred dollars, and 
there would be little or nothing to show for it in the 
end. In the day’s expenditure, one dollar had gone, 
and Mr. Barnaby’s memory was entirely at fault in 
regard to the manner of its disappearance. A dollar, 
thus wasted each day, would leave, in the annual 
expense, three hundred dollars unaccounted for. 
But Mr. Barnaby had never looked at the matter in 
this light. He did not reflect, that a cent uselessly 
spent every day is equal to three dollars thrown 
away in the year. 

On the next morning, Mr. Barnaby again went to 
market, and, as was usual with him, turned over in 
his mind the various articles he must buy, and fixed 
upon the sum that would meet all that really 
wanted. But, as on the day before, he exceeded 
this amount. The -excess was one dollar, and the 


WHERE TUB MONEY GOES, 


17 


articles purchased could all have been left in the 
market-house, and no member of Mr. Barnaby’s 
family experienced the smallest deprivation in com- 
fort or health. 

What a beautiful bunch of flowers I” said Mrs. 
Barnaby to her husband, for the tenth time, as they 
stood together in the parlour after breakfast. “ What 
a pity it is we haven’t a glass vase to cover them I 
They would look so sweet !” 

Wouldn’t they 1” was all the reply Mr. Barnaby 
made ; but the idea suggested by his wife did not 
die with the sound of her voice. It entered hia 
mind, and lived there. In imagination he saw that 
bouquet of flowers — tissue-paper though they were 
— within a glass vase, their beauty increased two- 
fold. 

Mr. Barnaby did not go direct to his office on 
leaving home that morning, but walked two or three 
squares out of his way, in order to visit a china- 
store. Before leaving the store, his purse was lighter 
by two dollars, that sum having been expended for 
a glass to cover the bouquet of paper flowers bought 
for fifty cents. 

As Mr. Barnaby walked along, thinking how 
gratified his wife would be when the vase was 
brought home, he passed a pickling and preserving 
establishment, and saw in the window jars of fruit 
and vegetables of various kinds, preserved in the 
condition they were in on being taken from 'the vine 


18 


WHERE THE MONEY GOES. 


or tree. One of these jars was marked Tomatoes.’^ 
Mr. Barnaby liked tomatoes very much, and had 
them on his table from the time they were to be 
bought four for a shilling until frost withered the 
vines on which they grew. To have a taste of the 
delightful vegetable once during the winter could 
hardly be called extravagance — -^o thought Mr. 
Barnaby — even if it did cost something to procure 
the gratification. So in he went, without debating 
the matter, and bought a small jar for fifty cents. 
While the shopkeeper was selecting his change, he 
took up a small bottle containing less than half a 
pint, marked ^‘Strawberries.” 

“ Have these the natural fiavour he inquired. 

“0 yes,” replied the shopkeeper. “They have 
been hermetically sealed, after exhausting the air, 
and are in just the state they were when taken from 
the vines. I opened a bottle yesterday, and found 
them delicious.” 

“ What is the price of this bottle ?” 

“ Half a dollar.” 

“ How better can I surprise and delight Aggy,” 
said Mr. Barnaby to himself, “ than by buying her 
some of these strawberries?” 

That question settled the matter, and Mr. Barna- 
by’s purse was soon lighter by another half dollar. 
The tomatoes and strawberries were then ordered to 
be sent home, and Mr. Barnaby, feeling very com 
fortable* in mind, proceeded to his office, and entered 


AVHEUE THE MONEY GOES. 


19 


upon the business of the day. Between that and 
nightfall, he gave a shilling to a beggar, who got 
drunk on the money, bought fifty cents worth of 
toys for the children, over which they disputed as 
soon as they received them, and which were all 
broken up and thrown away in less than twenty-four 
hours, and ordered home a quarter of a dollar’s 
worth of buns for tea, and found, on sitting down 
to supper, that his wife had baked enough cake to 
last the whole fiimily for three or four days. 

So passed the second day of the new year ; and 
when, in the evening, reflection came, and Mr. Bar- 
naby found nearly seven dollars less in his purse 
than when he went out in the morning, he was even 
more at a loss than on the day before to account for 
the deficiency. . In attempting to sum up the various 
expenditures into which he had been led, he could 
not make out over five dollars and a half; and his 
mind remained totally in the dark as to the balance. 

On the third day — but we will not weary the 
reader by minutely detailing the process by which 
Mr. Bai-naby got rid of his money on the third, 
fourth, fifth, and sixth days of the new year. What 
we have given will furnish a clew to unravel the 
mystery of his heavy expenses, and show, what he 
was himself unable to find out, where the money 
went. The amount uselessly spent, or that might 
have been saved without any abridgment of physical 
or mental comfort, during those six days, wa just 


ZO WHERE THE MONEY GOES. 

fifteen dollars ! or at the rate of seven, hundred and 
fifty dollars a year. 

The manner of proceeding during this one week 
shows exactly how Mr. Barnaby conducted his affairs. 
Not a day passed that he did not waste from one to 
three dollars in trifles to gratify a bad habit of de- 
siring to have every little thing he saw, instead of 
waiting until real wants tugged at his purse-strings. 

And it was not much better with Mrs. Barnaby. 
She, too, had acquired the same habit, and sixpences 
and shillings dropped daily from her fingers, as if 
they were of but small account. 

Thus it went on, as it had been going for years ; 
and wheii the next thirty-first of December arrived, 
and Mr. Barnaby examined his expense account, he 
found that twenty-two hundred dollars had vanished, 
and that scarcely a vestige of any good it had 
brought them remained. There had been no addi- 
tions, except very unimportant ones, to their furni- 
ture j no silver plate nor fine jewelry had been pur- 
chased ; nor had either Mr. or Mrs. Barnaby indulged 
in any extravagance of dress. 

Where does the money go asked again Mr. 
Barnaby, in a kind of despairing tone. 

‘‘Tm sure I cannot tell,^' sadly replied his wife. 

It seems impossible that we could have spent so 
much. What is there to show for it ? Nothing !” 

Nothing at all ! That makes the great mystery. 
Twenty-two hundred dollars I” . 


WIIKllE THE MONEY GOES. 


2 ] 


"While they yet conversed, their neighbours, tho 
Malcolms, dropped in to sit an hour. No very long 
time passed before the subject uppermost in the 
minds of the Barnabys showed itself. 

How is it,^^ said Mr. Barnaby, that you are 
able to live on so much less in the year than we can, 
and yet appear to spend more V’ 

Mrs. Malcolm smiled, and said that she was noi 
aware that such was really the case. 

But I know that it is so,” returned Mr. Barnaby 
You do not spend as much as we do by at leasi 
seven or eight hundred dollars.” 

Probably you put our expenses considerably 
below what they really are.” 

No, I apprehend not. I suppose it costs you 
from twelve to thirteen hundred dollars a year.” 

Yes. That is pretty near the mark.” • 

I shouldn’t like to say how much it really does 
cost us ; hut I can assure you it is far beyond that. 
As to where the money goes, I am entirely in the 
dark. We have nothing to show for it. I wish 
you would impart to us your system of economy,” 
said Mr. Barnaby, smiling-. If I could get through 
the year for fifteen hundred dollars, I would bo 
perfectly satisfied.” 

‘‘ I have no particular system,” replied Mr. Mal- 
colm, unless you call taking care of the little leaks 
in the cash, a system. When a boy, I lived with a 
shrewd old farmer in the country, who belonged to 


22 


WHERE THE MONEY GOES. 


the ‘ save-your-pennies-and-the-pounds-will-take-care* 
of-themselves’ school. One fall, in putting up cider, 
he trusted to rather a rickety-looking barrel, which 
showed a disposition to leak. ‘ I guess it will do,^ 
he said, thoughtfully eyeing the barrel after the 
cider had been poured into it, and noticing that in 
two or three places small streams were oozing forth. 
‘ The barrel is a little loose, but it will soon swell.^ 
And so the barrel was placed in the dark cellar with 
two or three others, for the winter’s supply. Two 
barrels were tapped one after another, and they 
yielded back the full amount of liquor that bad been 
committed to their charge. But on coming to the 
third barrel, and taking hold of it to bring it forward 
to a better position, it was found to be empty. 
' Aha !’ said the old farmer, I see how it is. I 
thought that leak was of no consequence, but it has 
wasted the whole barrel of cider. There’s a lesson 
for you, John,’ he added, turning to me. ‘ Take 
care of the little leaks in your pocket, when you 
grow up and have money to spend, for they are 
what run away with most men’s property.’ I un- 
derstood him as fully as if he had read me a homily 
of an hour long. All useless expenditures I now 
call leaks, and stop them up immediately.” 

No doubt we spend a great many dollars that might 
be saved in the year,” said Mr. Barnaby ; but I can- 
not conceive how all the leaks in our pockets could 
let out five or six hundred dollars in twelve mouths.” 


WHERE THE MONEY GOES. 


23 


It^s an easy matter for us to let five or six hun- 
dred dollars leak out, and yet scarcely be aware of the 
daily waste, replied Mr. Malcolm. Two dollars 
spent every day, that might be saved, gives six 
hundred dollars in a year.^' 

^^True. But a man could hardly let that much 
leak away without observing it.’’ 

“ It is very possible. Suppose you add on, daily, 
to each of your three meals, a shilling or sixpence 
more than is necessary ; and this may be done so 
easily as scarcely to be noticed ; how much do you 
think it would be in a year ? Why, the important 
sum of one hundred and thirty-eight dollars !” 

“ Is it possible Mr. Barnaby looked surprised. 

Even so. And if twenty-five cents be added to 
each meal, a thing easily done, as you very well 
know, the yearly aggregate is swelled to two hun- 
dred and seventy-six dollars.” 

In the matter of desserts alone,” said Mrs. 
Malcolm, coming in with a remark, which rather 
injures than conduces to health, half a dollar a 
day, in a family as large as yours, may easily be 
spent.” 

Don’t you have a dessert after dinner ?” inquired 
Mrs. Barnaby, in a tone of surprise. 

Not every day,” answered Mrs. Malcolm. 

‘‘ I don’t believe Mr. Barnaby would know that 
he had dined, if he hadn’t a dessert on the table.” 

Perhaps not,’’ replied Mr. Barnaby ; “ for then 


24 WHERE THE MONEY GOES. 

my first course would digest so easily that it would 
be hard to imagine that I had eaten any thing. 
The fact is, now that I reflect upon it, these desserts 
are to my stomach as the extra pound that broke the 
cameFs back. I don't believe I would have a dys- 
peptic symptom, if 1 did not touch puddings, pies, 
sweetmeats, nuts and raisins, blanc-manges, floating 
islands, and a hundred and one other things that 
my good wife prepares for our gratification, and 
which I eat after my appetite has been satiated on 
plain and more substantial food." 

Upon my word !" exclaimed Mrs. Barnaby 
And so, after all, these are the thanks I am to re- 
ceive for my trouble. Dear knows ! if it was not for 
you, I wouldn't worry myself every day about a 
dessert for dinner." 

And at a cost of over a hundred dollars a year," 
returned Mr. Barnaby, good-humouredly. begin 
to see a little of the way in which the money 
goes ?" 

“ There are so many ways in which we are 
obliged to spend money," said Mr. Malcolm, “ that 
unless we are watchful, a little will leak out at a dozen 
points every day, and show, in the end, although we 
remain all uncoftscious of the waste that is going on, 
an alarming deficiency. When I first entered upon 
life, I saw how this was in my own case. Sixpences, 
shillings, and even dollars did not seem of much 
importance; though of fives, tens, and twenties, I 


WHERE THE MONEY GOES. 


2 ? 


was very careful. The consequence was, that the 
small change kept constantly running away ; and, 
in the end, the fives, tens, and twenties had myste- 
riously disappeared. I saw that this wouldn’t do, 
and reformed the system. I took care of the small 
sums, and soon found that I always had large sums 
to spend for things actually needful, and had really 
more satisfaction in what I obtained with my money 
than I had before.” 

“ But it is so hard,” said Mrs. Barnaby, to be 
careful of the sixpences, without growing mean and 
penurious, an^ even seeking to save at the expense 
of others’ just rights.” 

“ Perhaps it is,” replied Mrs. Malcolm. “ But 
this consequence need not follow. All we have to 
do is, to deny ourselves the indulgence of a weak 
desire to spend money for little articles that we 
could do without and not abridge our comfort in 
the least, and we will find enough left in our purses 
to remove us from the temptation to be unjust to. 
others.” 

‘^Taking care of the pennies, then, and leaving 
the pounds to take care of themselves, is your 
system,” remarked Mr. Barnaby. 

^^Yes,” answered Mr. Malcolm. ^^That is our 
system, and we have found it to work very well. We 
not only enjoy every comfort we could reasonably 
desire, but have nearly two thousand dollars in the 

Savings bank.” 

VI.— 3 


2C) WHERE THE MONEY GOES. 

“And yet your salary is only fifteen hundred 
dollars a year.’^ 

“ That is all.^^ 

“ While my income is over two thousand, and I 
liavenH a cent left to bless myself with when the 
thirty-first of December arrives. But I see where 
the leak is. I understand, now, clearly, how the 
money goes ; and, by the help of a good resolution, 
I will stop the leak.^^ 

How far Mr. Barnaby was successful in stopping 
the leak, we do not know. It is hard to reform 
confirmed habits of any kind, and we .are afraid that 
he found the task assumed a hard one. But if he 
conquered in the attempt, his reward was ample, 
compared to the amount of self-denial required for 
the achievement. 


A BAD HABIT CURED. 


One of the virtues peculiar to society in this 
country — and, it may he, in other countries, for 
aught we know — is a tender regard for the con 
sciences of others. People are disposed to interpret 
St. PauFs injunction to the Philippians, Look not 
every man on his own things, but every man, also, 
on the things of his neighbour,” after the most 
literal fashion. We see this manifested in a great 
variety of ways, but in none more prominently than 
in the effort to make people pay due regard to the 
precept, Of him that would horroio of thee^ turn 
not thou away” 

Mrs. Armand was the very personification of this 
virtue; and she took good care that none in her 
neighbourhood suffered condemnation for lack of a 
living faith in the precept last quoted, as sundry 
caKiful housewives could testify. 

Mr. Armand differed with his wife in some mat- 
ters, and particularly in regard to the morality of 
her borrowing-practices, and often recorded his pro- 
test against their continuance ; the doing of which 


28 


A BAD HABIT CURED. 


satisfied him more and more, each time it was 
repeated, that ^^when a woman will, she will, you 
may depend onH.^' A fair sample of the discussions 
held on the subject, may be seen in the following 
matrimonial passage of small arms, which occurred 
in consequence of the appearance on the table, one 
morning, of a strange looking Britannia- ware coffee- 
pot. 

Where did that come from, Sarah was the 
natural inquiry of Mr. Armand, as his eyes rested 
upon this handsome addition to the appendages of 
the tea-tray. 

Kitty melted the bottom off of my coffee-pot 
yesterday, the careless thing replied Mrs. Ar- 
mand, and it is not mended yet ; so I borrowed 
Mrs. Lovell’s for this morning.” 

I wouldn’t have done that,’' said the husband 

Why wouldn’t you?” very pertinently inquired 
Mrs. Armand. 

Oh ! because I wouldn’t.” 

Give a reason. Men are always fierce enough 
for reasons !” 

Because I don’t think it right to borrow other 
people’s things, when we can do without them.” 

“ We couldn’t do without a coffee-pot, could we?” 

“Yes; I think so.” 

“ How, pray ?” 

“ Rather than borrow, I would have made tea for 
breakfast, until our coffee-pot was mended.” 


A BAD HABIT CURED. 


29 


A nice grumbling time there would have been 
if I had tried to put you off with a cup of tea V* 

don^t think I am such a grumbler as that, 
Sarah. I believe I am as easily satisfied as most 
men. Fm sure I would rather drink tear all my life 
than take coffee from a borrowed coffee-pot.^^ 

So much for trying to provide for your comfort !’^ 
said Mrs. Arm and, in a complaining tone of voice. 

“ I never wish you to do wrong for the sake ol 
securing my comfort/^ returned her husband. 

Do wrong ! Do you mean to say that it is 
wrong to borrow and lend 

It is wrong to borrow on every trifling occasion, 
for this is to be unjust to others, who are constantly 
deprived of the use or possession of such things as 
are their own.^^ 

I wouldnH like to live in a world as selfish as 
it would be, if made after your model/^ said Mrs. 
Armand. 

No doubt it would be bad enough, replied the 
husband ; but I am sure that borrowers would be 
scarce.^^ 

^^But what harm can my using' Mrs. LovelFs 
coffee-pot for a single morning do, I would like to 
know 

Mr. Armand answered this interrogatory, not, 
however, conclusively enough to satisfy his wife. 
Mrs. LovelFs opinion on the subject being much 
more to the point, will best enlighten the reader, 

3 * 


30 


A BAD HABIT CURED. 


and so we will give that. Mrs. Lovell was preparing 
to go down to breakfast, when her cook came to her 
chamber-door, and said — 

“ Mrs. Armand, ma^am, wants you to lend her 
your coflFee-pot. She says Kitty melted the bottom 
off of hers, and it a’n^t mended yet. She just wants 
it for this morning.’^ 

Very well,^^ returned Mrs. Lovell. The tone in 
which this was said did not express much pleasure. 
As the girl retired, Mrs. Lovell remarked, in a 
grumbling way, to her husband, 

^^And, no doubt, Kitty^ll melt the bottom off* of 
mine before night.^^ 

You are not going to let her have that handsome 
Britannia coffee-pot?’^ said Mr. Lovell. 

I have no other, and she knows it.” 

You might say, that you have only one. She 
will think that in use.” 

‘^No, she won’t;” for she is very well aware of 
the fact, that we don’t make coffee, unless when we 
happen to have company.” 

“ As you had not the resolution to say ‘ no,* you 
will have to take your chance.” 

‘^And the chances will all be against me. Of 
that I am certain. I never loaned Mrs. Armand any 
thing in my life, that it did’nt come home injured 
in some way.” 

‘‘Then your coffee-pot will hardly prove an ex- 
ception.” 


A BAD HABIT CURED. 


3l 

“Tra afraid not. Oh, dear! I wish that people 
would let their neighbours possess the little thej 
have, in peace. I’ve had that set of Britannia- 
ware for five years, and there is not a bad scratch 
nor bruise upon any piece of it. If Mrs. Armand 
lets the cofiee-pot get injured, I shall be too 
angry.’’ 

I almost hope she will,” said Mr. Lovell 

^^Why, Henry?” 

You will then, in all probability, fall back upon 
your reserved rights, and throw Mrs. Armand, in 
future, upon hers.” 

What are our reserved rights ?” 

^^In this case, yours will be to refuse lending 
what your neighbours should buy ; and hers will be 
to buy what she can’t conveniently borrow.” 

“ I don’t wish to offend her,” said Mrs. Lovell, 
*^but, if she does let my coffee-pot get injured, I 
shall be too much put out.” 

In other words, you will say something sharp 
about it.” 

Very likely. I’m apt, you know, to speak out 
on the spur of the occasion.” 

^^Then I shall be very well content to see the 
•^pout knocked off, the handle bent, or a bruise as 
large as a walnut in the side of your cofiee-pot.” 

Henry ! Why will you say so ?” 

Because I happen to feel all I say. This bor- 
rowing nuisance is intolerable, and its suppression 


32 


A BAD HABIT CURED. 


can haiily be obtained at too dear a cost. ^ How 
many umbrellas has Mrs. Armand lost or ruined for 
us in the last two or three years V* 

Don't ask me that question. I've never tried 
to keep the 'counts." 

Half a dozen, at least." 

You may safely set the number down at that 
But, if T could get off with umbrellas, I'd buy a 
case, and let her have one a month, and think the 
arrangement a bargain. The fact is, I have scarcely 
an article of movable household goods, or wearing 
apparel, that doesn't show sad evidences of having 
been used by some one beside myself. You know 
that dear little merino cloak of Charley's, in which 
he looked so sweet ?" 

^^Yes. What of it?" 

Last Sunday, Mrs. Armand had her baby bap- 
tized. Of course, she had nothing decent to put on 
it, and of course sent for Charley's cloak. What 
could I do ?" 

You could have declined letting her have the 
cloak." 

^^Not under the circumstances." 

Hasn't her baby a cloak ?" 

Yes ; but it's full of grease-spots — ^not fit to be 
seen." 

“ It’s good enough for her baby, if she don't 
think proper to provide a better one." 

All very easily said. But I couldn't refuse the 


A BAD HABIT CURED. 


83 


cloak, though I let it go with fear and trembling. 
Now just look at it !” 

Mrs. Lovell opened a drawer, and taking out tho 
dove-coloured cloak, with its white and blue lining, 
slowly opened it. 

“ Bless me !” exclaimed her husband, as the back 
of the collar was di.splaycd, and showed several 
square inches of discolouration. “ What in the 
world could have done that T* 

Perspiration from the child’s head. Charley 
has worn it twenty times, yet not a spot was to be 
seen before. But this is not the worst. To keep 
the baby from crying in church, a piece of red candy 
was pushed into its mouth.” 

Goodness I” 

And as the baby was cutting teeth, the result 
can hardly be wondered at. Look !” 

Mrs. Lovell held up the front of the cloak. From 
the collar to the skirt were lines, broad irregular 
patches, and finger-marks, dark, red, and gummy. 

That beats every thing !” exclaimed Mr. Lovell. 

<‘But it isn’t all,” added his wife,” as she turned 
the cloak around, and show^ed a grease-spot, half as 
large as her hand, upon the skirt. After the child 
was brought home, nurse took olf the cloak and 
threw it upon a table, where one of the children had 
just laid a large slice of bread and butter.” 

“ Is that all ?” asked Mr. Lovell. 

haven’t looked any further,” replied Mrs. 


A BAD HABIT CURED. 


&4 

Lovell, tossing the ruined garment from her with 
an impatient air. But isn’t it too much to bear ?’' 

•‘What did the lady say, when she brought it 
home ?” 

“ She sent it in by one of her girls, who said that 
there were two or three spots on the cloak, for which 
Mrs. Armand was sorry ; but she thought I could 
easily rub 'them out.” 

“ Humph I” 

“ The cloak is totally ruined. I don’t know when 
I had any thing to vex me so much. And it was 
such a beauty !” 

“ What will you do ?” 

“ Throw it away. I can’t let my baby wear a 
soiled and greasy cloak. Sec 1” And Mrs. Lovell 
again went to her drawers. “ I’ve got cashmere for 
a new one.” 

“ Well, now, this is too bad !” exclaimed Mr. 
Lovell. “ Too bad ! If I were you, I’d send her 
the cloak, with my compliments, and tell her to 
keep it.” 

“ Oh, I don’t wish to make her an enemy.” 

“ Better have such persons enemies than friends.” 

“ Perhaps not.” 

‘ What’s the use of your making a new cloak for 
Charley ? You’ll lend it to Mrs. Armand when she 
wants to send her baby out, and then” 

“ Beg your pardon, husband dear ! But I will do 
no such thing !” 


A BAD HABIT CURED. 


g5 


‘‘We’!! see.^’ 

And we loill see.” 

Mrs. Lovell spoke pretty resolutely, as it her 
mind were, for once in her life, made up not to be 
imposed upon. 

The breakfast-bell ringing at the moment, Mr. 
and Mrs. Lovell dropped the subject for the discus- 
sion of one rather more agreeable. 

The day passed without the return of the coffee- 
pot, about which Mrs. Lovell could not help feeling 
some uneasiness. And she had good reason ; for 
dothing came home from the hands of the in- 
corrigible borrower that did not show signs of hard 
dr careless usage. 

On the next day, Mrs. Armand called in to pay 
her neighbours a visit. 

I have’nt sent home your coffee-pot yet,” said 
she, during a pause in the conversation that followed 
her entrance. told Kitty, yesterday, to take 
ours immediately and get it mended ; but I found 
this morning that she had failed to do so. I never 
saw such a careless, forgetful creature, in my life.” 

It’s no mattei-,” Mrs. Lovell forced herself to 
say, at the cost of a departure from the truth. 

‘^Oh, I knew it was no difference, because you 
don't make coffee regularly,” responded Mrs. Ar- 
mand ; but, then, I never like to be using other 
people’s things when I can help it. Besides, our 
Kitty is such a careless creature, that every thing 


36 


A BAD HABIT CURED 


she touches is in danger ; and Fra afraid it might 
get injured. I noticed a little dent in tlie spout this 
morning/^ 

Not a bad one V’ said Mrs. Lovell, thrown off 
of her guard by this admission. The tone in which 
she spoke expressed some anxiety. 

“ Oh, no, no replied Mrs. Armand quickly. 
“ You would hardly see it unless it were pointed out. 
But even for so trifling an injury, I can assure you I 
scolded Kitty well. As soon as I go home, I will 
start her off with my coffee-pot, if she has not 
already taken it to the tinner’s.'^ 

Days passed, but the coffee-pot still remained in 
the possession of Mrs. Armand. In the mean time, 
Charley’s new cloak of very fine light blue cashmere 
was finished, and as Mrs. Lovell was a little proud 
of her baby — what mother is not?- — the cloak went 
out to take an airing, the baby inside of course, every 
day for a week afterwards. 

One afternoon, some friends came in, and Mrs. 
Lovell persuaded them to stay and spend the even- 
ing. Shortly after they arrived, a messenger came 
from Mrs. Armand, with a request for the loan 
of Charley’s cloak, as the mother wanted to send 
her baby down to Jones’s Hotel, that a friend of 
her’s, who was passing through the city, might see 
him. 

Mrs. Lovell said, Very well,’^ and took from a 
drawer the dove-coloured merino cloak that bad 


A BAD HABIT CURED. 


37 


suffered so severely at the christening, and handed 
it to the girl who had come from jMrs. Armnnd. 

In a few minutes, tlie girl returned with the cloak, 
and said — “ It isn't the one that Mrs. Armand wants. 
(She says, please to let her have the blue one. She’ll 
take good care of it." 

Mrs. Lovell took the dove-coloured cloak and re- 
turned with it to the drawer slowly, debating in her 
mind what she should do. She must either offend Mrs. 
Armand, or run the risk of having the new cloak, 
which cost ten dollars, besides her labour, spoiled as 
the other had been. She did not wi.sh to do the 
former; but, how could she submit to the latter? 
Just as, in her doubt and hesitation, she laid her 
hand upon the new garment, a thought struck her, 
and turning to the girl, she said — 

Tell Mrs. Armand that she can have the light 
cloak in welcome; but Charley is going out, and 
will wear the blue one." 

The girl departed, and Charley got an extra air- 
ing that day. Mrs. Armand was exceedingly in- 
dignant, and wondered if IMrs. Lovell supposed she 
was going to send her child out in that “ soiled and 
greasy thing I" 

Towards supper-time, Mrs. Lovell’s cook asked 
her if she wished coffee made. 

Oh, certainly," was replied. 

Mrs. Armand has our coffee-pot." 

I know. You must go in for it." 

VI.— 4 


88 


A BAD HABIT CURED. 


The cook took off her apron, and ran into Mrs. 
Armand’s for the coffee-pot. In a few moments she 
returned, and said — 

Mrs. Armand canH let you have it before to- 
morrow. Hers is not mended yet, — and Mr. Ar- 
mand always drinks coffee for supper.^^ 

“ But go and tell her that I have company, and 
cannot do without it,’^ replied Mrs. Lovell, a little 
impatiently. 

The girl went back. When she returned, the 
coffee-pot was in her possession. As she set it down 
before Mrs Lovell, she said — 

“ Mrs. Armand didn’t seem to like it much.” 

“ Like what much ?” 

Your sending again. She says her husband 
never drinks tea, and she don’t know how she is 
going to make him coffee.” 

But that isn’t my coffee-pot !” 

‘‘Y'es, ma’am.” 

Oh, no. Never !” And Mrs. Lovell took up a 
dingy looking affair that her cook had brought in, 
and eyed it doubtingly. She remembered her Bri- 
tannia coffee-pot as a beautiful piece of ware, without 
a scratch or bruise, and bright as silver. But this 
was as dull as pewter : a part of the bottom, an 
eighth of an inch wide and three inches long, had 
been melted off or turned up; there were several 
large dents in it: the mouth of the spout had re- 
ceived a disfiguring bruise, and the little jet knob 


A BAD HABIT CURED, 


39 


on the lid was entirely broken off! No, no — this 
was not her coffee-pot. But cook insisted that it was, 
and soon proved her assertion. 

This was too much for Mrs. Lovell, and the for- 
bearance of that long-suffering lady yielded under 
the too heavy pressure it was called to sustain. 

That my coffee-pot 1’^ she exclaimed, with a 
most indignant emphasis, and lifting it from the 
table on which the cook had placed it, she set it 
down upon a tea-tray, which contained the other 
pieces belonging to her beautiful set of Britannia. 
The contrast was lamentable. 

There!” said she, with a glowing cheek, and 
voice pitched an octave higher than usual. Take 
the'whole set into Mrs. Armand, with my compli- 
ments, and say that I make, her a present of it.” 

The cook didn’t need to be told her errand twice. 
Before Mrs. Lovell had time for reflection and repent- 
ance, she was beyond recall. 

The dining-room and kitchen of Mrs. Armand’s 
house were in the same story, and separated only 
by a door. It happened that Mr. Armand was at 
home when Mrs. Lovell’s cook came in and presented 
the breakfast and tea set, with the compliments of 
her mistress. The tone in which the message was 
given, as it reached his ears, satisfied him that 
something was wrong ; and he was put beyond all 
doubt when he heard his wife say, with unusual ex- 
citement in her voice — 


40 


A BAD HABIT CURED. 


Take them hack ! Take them back !*' 

But the girl retreated hastily, and left her in full 
possession of the tray and its contents. 

‘MVhat’s the matter?” inquired Mr. Armand, as 
his wife retreated into the dining-room with flushed 
fioe and a quivering lip. It was some moments be- 
fore she could speak, and then she said something 
in a confused way about an insult. Not being able 
to understand what it all meant, Mr. Armand sought 
for information in the kitchen. 

“ Whose is this ?” he said to Kitty, laying his 
hand upon the Britannia set. 

^‘Mrs. Lovell’s,” replied Kitty. 

Why is it here ?” 

Mrs. Lovell sent it in as a present to Mrs. Ar- 
mand.” 

“ Indeed !” Mr. Armand looked a little closer. 

Is this the cofiee-pot we have been using for a 
week ?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

Humph !” Light was breaking into his mind. 

Abusing, I should have said,” he added. And 
because the coffee-pot has been ruined, and the set 
broken, Mrs. Lovell makes us a present of what 
remains ?” 

Kitty held down her head in silence. 

After examining the coffee-pot, and contrasting 
it with other pieces of the set, Mr. Lovell made an 
angry exclamation, and retired from the kitchen. 


A BAD HABIT CURED. 


41 


He did not re-enter the dining-room, where he had 
left his wife, but took up his hat, and going out of 
the front-door, shut it hard after him. In about 
half an hour he returned. 

Where have you been ?” his wife ventured to 
ask, as he entered the room, where she was sitting 
in no very enviable mood. 

“ Trying to repair the wrong you have done.^' 
How do you mean V’ asked Mrs. Armand. 

Fve bought a handsome set of Britannia- ware 
for Mrs. Lovell,^^ replied the husband, and sent it 
to her, with a note of apology, and a request from 
me, as a particular favour, never to lend you any 
thing again, as you would be sure to injure it.^^ 

Mr. Armand V* 

^^It’s true, every word of it. I never was so 
mortified by any thing in my life. I don’t wonder 
that Mrs. Lovell sent you the beautiful set you had 
broken. The fact is, this borrowing system must 
come to an end. If you want any thing, buy it; 
and if you are not able, do without it.” 

Poor Mrs. Armand, whose feelings during the 
brief absence of her husband were by no means to 
be envied, now burst into tears and cried bitterly. 
Mr. Armand made no attempt to soothe the distress 
of his wife. He felt a little angry ; and when one 
is angry, there is not much room left in the mind 
for sympathy towards those who have excited the 
anger. 


42 


A BAD HABIT CURED- 


After supper, while Mrs. Armand sat sewing, her 
face under a cloud, and Mr. Armand was endeavour- 
ing to get over the unpleasant excitement he had 
experienced, by means of a book, some one rang the 
bell. In a little while, Mr. Lovell was announced. 

What in the world can he want V* said Mrs, 
Armand. 

‘‘ More about the coffee-pot,’^ replied Mr. Ar- 
mand, as he laid aside his book. 

Mrs. Armand made no answer, and her husband 
left the room where they were sitting, and entered 
the parlour. Mr. Lovell, who was standing in the 
floor, extended his hand, and said with a smile — 

^^I’m afraid my wife’s hasty conduct — for which 
she is extremely sorry — has both hurt and offended 
you. And as these are matters which, if left to 
themselves, like hidden Are, increase to a flame, I 
have thought it best to see you at once, and offer all 
necessary apologies on her behalf.” 

“ Not hurt in the least !” replied Mr. Armand 
good-humouredly. ^‘And as for apologies, Mrs. 
Lovell wants no better one than the wreck of her 
beautiful coffee-pot, which I have minutely examined. 
I’m glad she sent it back, just as she did ; and for 
two reasons. It gave me an opportunity to repair 
the wrong which had been done, and served as a 
lesson to my wife, such as she needed and will not 
Boon forget. No, no, Mr. Lovell ! don’t let this 
nialic y.iu feel in the least unpleasant.” 


A BAD HABIT CURED. 


43 


“ But my wife says she cannot think of keeping 
the beautiful tea and coffee set you sent her.’’ 

Tell her that she will have to keep them. They 
are hers in simple justice. If she sends them here,- 
they will not be received. So she has no remedy. 
We want a set, and will keep yours. If a disfigured 
coffee-pot has to be used, let it be by those who are 
guilty of the abuse. And now, Mr. Lovell, tell 
your good lady from me, that if she lends my wife 
any thing more, I will not be responsible ; as I 
have always disapproved the system, and am now, 
more than ever, opposed to it.” 

This last sentence was spoken playfully. After 
half an hour’s good-humoured conversation, the 
gentlemen parted. It was some days before the 
ladies met, and then they were a little reserved 
towards each other. This reserve never entirely 
wore ofif. But there was no more borrowing from 
Mrs. Lovell, nor any oxm eise; tor Mrs. Armand 
was entirely cured of her desire to make others keep 
the scriptural injunction, to v^de 

in the opening of our story. 


SPOILING A GOOD DINNER. 


Come and dine witli me, on Thursday,’^ said my 
old friend Clayton. I am to have the company 
of three or four friends, and wish you to be one of 
the number.” 

I accepted the invitation with pleasure, for 1 liked 
Clayton. We had been acquaintances from boy- 
hood ; and mature years had only tended to strength- 
en the attachments of youth. I also liked his 
wife. She, too, had been one of my early friends. 
Many an agreeable evening had I spent with them 
since their marriage; and if the story I am about 
to tell does not give them olfence, I hope to spend 
many more in their pleasant society. As to the 
telling of the stoiy, that is a part of my vocation ; 
but in matters of this kind, I generally manage to 
embellish a little here and there, and to change 
names and vary incidents, in such a way, that the 
parties who have been made to sit for their pictures 
are hardly ever willing to see therein any likeness 
of themselves. And this being the case in the 
present instance, I hardly think I shall give any 


SPOILING A GOOD DINNER. 


45 


offence; although lam not unwilling that my friend’s 
wife should at least have a remote idea that she 
might have been the original of my sketch. 

Like all women, and men too, Mrs. Clayton had 
her faults ; and one of these I had frequently had 
occasion to notice. The fault was this : a habit of 
making the worst, instead of the best, of a thing. 
If she took a dress to be made, she always knew it 
wouldn’t fit. If she laid out to start on a journey 
at a certain time, or to pay a visit, she knew it 
would rain. If one of her children were attacked 
with a fever and sore throat — not a very uncommon 
thing, by the way — she knew it was scarletina. 

One evening, I went home with her husband, per 
invitation, to take tea. Mrs. Clayton expected me, 
and I was received with the warm welcome that al- 
ways greeted my appearance. During a pause in 
the conversation that followed, I heard her say to 
her husband, in an under tone : 

‘^I’ve made up some nice cakes for tea, but I’m 
almost sure, they won’t rise, just because I want them 
to.” 

“Nonsense!” said he, half aloud, smiling. “You’re 
an old croaker 1” 

“ That’s too bad !” she replied, speaking aloud ; 
and then turning towards me — “ My husband calls 
me a croaker, but it is no such thing. I am no 
more of a croaker than he is.” 

“ Oh yes, Kate, you are a notorious croaker 


46 


SPOILING A GOOD DINNER. 


You always look at the dark instead of the bright 
parts in a picture ; while I always expect the sun- 
shine ; though too often, I must confess, I find the 
sky overspread with clouds. Still, imaginary sun- 
shine is much better than imaginary clouds — don’t 
you think so 

I could not but assent to this. 

I am not so sure of that replied the wife. 

For my part, I would much rather expect clouds 
and get sunshine, than expect sunshine and get 
clouds. But I will leave you, gentlemen, to discuss 
this matter between yourselves, while 1 go and see 
that our tea is not spoiled.” 

In about an hour, during which time we had seen 
but little of Mrs. Clayton, the tea-bell was rung, and 
we retired from the parlour into the dining-room. 
We found her awaiting us at the tea-table, looking 
the very image of good-humour. 

^^The cakes are light,” I said to n yself, scarcely 
able to repress a smile. I had overheard her remark 
that she was almost sure they wouldn’t rise good. 

After we were helped round, my friend said, with 
a smile — 

“ All right, I see, Kate, notwith” — 

^^Come! not one word, Mr. Clayton,” quickly 
spoke up his wife, interrupting him. It is too 
bad !” she added, addressing me, “ for my husband 
to do so. I said that I didn’t believe the cakes 
would rise, and I had good reason for saying so. 


SPOILING A GOOD DINNER. 


47 


But it seems I was mistaken, for which I am very 
thankful, and I think he ought to be the same.’' 

And so I am," returned the husband, laughing. 
^^The cakes are first-rate. I wouldn't have Lad 
them heavy and sour for the world." 

My friend put a little too much emphasis on the 
last part of the sentence, which caused his wife to 
ask, rather seriously, Why not for the world, Mr. 
Clayton ?" 

It would have grieved you so," he replied, in an 
evasive manner, yet meaning just what he said. 

You think I would have taken it very much to 
heart, do you ?" 

All ladies take such matters to heart, and I sup- 
pose they can’t help it. It is rather a serious atfair 
to have the cakes sour when a friend is invited to 
tea." 

I joined in, pretty much in the strain of the last 
sentence, in order to make Mrs. Clayton feel less 
annoyed than she was evidently disposed to be by 
the first part of her husband's remarks ; and, as the 
latter was as much inclined as myself to restore the 
disturbed serenity of his wife's temper, slight as 
that disturbance was, he took good care to say nothing 
more that was not as soothing as oil. All now was 
as pleasant, during the tea-hour, as a May morning, 
with the exception that the lady scolded the servant 
for neglecting to place a knife and fork at her plate, 
and during the time seemed to me to be in rather an* 


48 


SPOILING A GOOD DINNER- 


unamiable mood. Not that I objected to the sei 
rant’s being scolded for her neglect, for she nwiy 
have richly deserved it, and of this iny fair friend 
was no doubt well convinced. The error consisted 
in scolding at the wrong time and place. 

But to the dinner. Ten minutes before three 
o'clock, I rang’ the bell at the house of my friend, 
and was shown into the parlour, where I found 
Clayton and three guests. I made the fourth and 
tne complement. Three o’clock was the hour for 
dinner. Just as the clock was striking that hour, 
our fair hostess entered, looking, I thought, a little 
flushed and worried. After greeting us with great 
cordiality, she sat down beside her husband on the 
sofa, saying, as she did so: 

I’m sorry, gentlemen, but I’m afraid you will 
have to wait half an hour for your dinner. My 
cook has been as cross as she could be all the morn- 
ing, and the fires as little inclined to burn as she to 
be pleasant.” 

“ No matter,” said I, smiling. AVe wdll have 
the better appetites. Give your cook and the fires 
their own way, and all will come out right in the 
end.” 

All joined in assuring her that it was the same to 
them whether dinner were ready in ten minutes or 
an hour; but it did not make her feel in the least 
more comfortable, or tend to increase our appetites 
for the coming meal. 


BPOILING A GOOD DINNER. 


49 


T do tliink/^ said she, after few remarks?, pro 
and con, had been made, all referring to the dinner, 
that the ordinary servants we get are the most 
perverse, self-willed, obstinate creatures in existence ! 
Just the time when you feel most dependent upon 
them, is the time when they will fail you. Our 
cook knows her business very well, and I have no 
trouble at all with her, except when we have com- 
pany, and then she acts like the very old Scratch ! 
I always dread to see” — 

Our hostess checked herself suddenly and looked 
a little confused, and our friend Clayton gave two 
or three emphatic aJiems J” and struck off at right 
angles into a new subject. I believe there was not 
one of us who did not understand the whole sen- 
tence as well as if it had been finished ; nor one of 
us who did not more than half regret having ac- 
cepted the invitation to dine. 

Nearly an hour passed, during which time our 
friend’s wife came in and went out of the parlour 
frequently, the irregular corrugations about her eye- 
brows growing more and more distinct with the 
passage of every ten minutes. At length, but not 
until the cheerful expression of Clayton’s face had 
beo-un to fade, dinner was announced. We all 
ascended, chatting freely, to the dining-room, and 
were in, considering what had passed, a marvellous 
good humour. Our sharp appetites we considered 

a compensation for the delay. 

VL— 5 


50 


SPOTLmG A GOOD DINNER. 


We found Mrs. Cla3^ton awaiting us in the dining- 
room. Her smile was pleasant and cloud-dispersing, 
but it faded away too soon, and left the whole aspect 
of her face too much drawn down. There was a 
bright glow upon her cheeks — unusually bright, and 
in her eyes an intenseness of expression that took 
from them their highest charm. I saw that she was 
over-excited, worried, and unhappy. Things had 
gone wrong with her, and she had not the philoso- 
phy to bear her trials with good-humour, nor the 
tact to conceal what she felt from the friends whom 
she had joined her husband in inviting to partake 
the hospitalities of her table. 

At last was the greeting she gave us, to which 
was replied, in a pleasant tone — 

Better late than never, you know. We shall 
make up for the delay by doing greater justice to 
your elegant dinner.^^ 

You’ll not find it very elegant, I fear. It’s 
miserably cooked !” she replied, half smiling, half 
frowning. 

Let us be the judges, madam,” returned the 
one who had replied to her first remark. think 
we shall render a much better account.” 

My wife, you know,” Clayton said, glancing first 
at the subject of bis remark, and smiling a little 
sarcastically, generally looks upon the dark side.” 

Yes ; I have not forgotten the sour cakes,” I 
replied, laughing. 


SPOILING A GOOD DINNER. 


51 


But somehow or other, the lady did not appear to 
relish the joke very well. She muttered something 
in reply that I could not understand, and then com- 
menced doing her part towards helping her guests 
to the various dishes that were upon the table. She 
had not proceeded far in this before she discovered 
that the beef was “burnt to a crisp,^’ the turkey 
“ raw,^' the potatoes “ sobby,^^ and the gravy as 
“ black as a coal.'’^ 

“ Never mind, my dear,’’ said her husband, on 
her declaring that the beef was burnt to a crisp — 
“ It’s only on the outside ; all is right within. 
Here’s a slice that would tickle the palate of an 
alderman, and there are plenty more here just like 
it. The beef will do very well ; don’t run it down 
until we begin, and then speak up for the cook, 
which you may do with a clear conscience.” 

“ I’m sure the slice you have helped Mr. B. to 
is not fit to eat. Gro, John, and take Mr. B.’s plate 
up for a better piece.” 

“ Beg pardon, madam,” said Mr. B., “ I couldn’t 
ask any thing better. I like beef well-done, and 
always prefer an outside piece.” 

But nothing would do. Mr. B.’s plate had to go 
up and an exchange be made for a more juicy slice 
of beef, which, if what Mr. B. said was strictly true, 
was not as agreeable to his palate as the o<-her. 

“ Will you have some of this gravy ?” the lady 
asked, looking at me. “It’s as black as a coal,” 


62 


SPOILING A GOOD DINNER. 


8he added, turning it up from the bottom with a 
spoon. 

I’ll take some, if you please/’ I answered. 

The gravy certainly was rather darker than 1 was 
in the habit of seeing it, but yet about as near the 
colour of a coal as the meat was to being burnt 
to a crisp. There was nothing unpleasant in its 
taste. 

I don’t believe you can eat this turkey, Mr. C./’ 
she said a few minutes afterwards, as she was help- 
ing the individual she addressed to a piece of turkey 
that had been carved at a side-table by the waiter, 
and placed before her. It’s raw 1” 

I like even fowls a little rare,” replied Mr. C. 

It will just suit me.” 

It’s well you are all easily suited,” returned 
Mrs. Clayton. I call the whole dinner about the 
worst-cooked I have ever seen. I am mortified to 
death about it.” 

We assured her, as soon as we had time to test 
the quality of the good things before us, that all 
was excellent. And, in saying this, we did not ex- 
aggerate in the least. To have a better dinner than 
that, I would not give the value of a copper. But 
it availed nothing. Because eveiy thing was not 
cooked and flavoured just to the point that she ap- 
proved, it was pronounced unfit to be eaten. Not 
content with abusing the fare she had placed before 
as, she scolded the waiter for his omissions in setting 


SPOILING A GOOD DINNER. 


58 


the table, a ceremony that both he and the guests 
would have most cheerfully dispensed with. 

At length we were through with the principal 
course, and then came the dessert. By the way, 
however, I forgot to mention that, to add zest to our 
dinner, Mrs. Clayton refused to be helped to any 
thing, and did so in a way that was especially un- 
pleasant. To see her sitting up straight, with her 
hands in her lap, and an empty plate before her, 
while I was feasting on the many delicacies she had 
provided, affected my appetite considerably. But 
at length came the dessert. 

First some tarts were brought by the waiter and 
placed on the table before her. The moment the 
eyes of Mrs. Clayton rested on these, her brows con- 
tracted sharply, but she said nothing. I saw that 
the sides of two or three of them were burnt pretty 
black ; save that defect, their appearance was tempt- 
ing enough. 

“All burnt up! it is too bad !” I could hear her 
say, in an under tone, speaking to herself, while she 
was serving them out on plates, and handing them 
to the waiter to be passed around the table. 

The flavour of the tarts was very delicious, and 
the first few mouthfuls as pleasant to the taste as 
any thing of the kind I had ever eaten ; but, after 
that, I did not enjoy them much, from thinking 
about the unhappy temper of our hostess. 

Some lemon and cocoa-nut pudding followed. 


54 


SPOILING A GOOD DINNER 


These were delicacies upon which Mrs. Clayton 
prided herself, and when they were set before her, 
her face brightened up. So, I am sure, did mine, 
for by this time I had begun to feel really unplea- 
sant, and must have shown my feelings in my coun 
tenance After these puddings had been served 
iround, Mrs. Clayton asked Mr. B. how he liked 
them. 

Delicious I” was the reply. 

I believe I will try a piece myself, said the 
lady. 

Do said I, speaking up quickly. It t^kes 
away half the pleasure of the dinner to see 
you eating nothing, after all your trouble in pre- 
paring so many delicacies for us.’'' I felt better at 
once. 

By this time, Mrs. Clayton had lifted a small piece 
of the lemon pudding to her mouth. 

‘‘ My gracious!” she exclaimed. “Why, it isn't 
fit to eat ! it's as sour as vinegar I Isn't it too bad ? 
Every thing has gone wrong to-day !” 

“ It is a little tart, Kate,” said her husband ; 
“ but I really hadn't noticed it before you spoke. 
I hope I may never have a worse one.” 

“ Ditto to that !” said Mr. C. And “ ditto” went 
cheerily round the table. 

But it did no good. The piece of lemon pudding 
was pushed aside. 

“Try some of the cocoa-nut pudding; I am sura 


SPOILING A GOOD DINNER. 


56 


that is without a fault V* I said, hoping to restore 
some of her suddenly-lost equanimity. 

“ I suppose that is no better than the rest/’ she 
replied ; it would be strange if it were an excep- 
tion,” 

‘^Only try it!” I urged. In this I was joined 
by others. 

Although I perceived no fault whatever in the 
pudding, I confess that I saw her make preparations 
for trying it with some misgivings. If this should 
prove defective, there was little hope of our getting 
away from the dinner-table with cheerful spirits. 

“ It’s as dry as a chip I” almost stunned me, even 
while these thoughts were passing through my mind, 
though spoken in a low querulous tone. 

From that moment I gave up ; I spoke not an- 
other word. The fruits came on, and we ate them 
in silence. Poor Clayton looked miserable; he was 
mortified and worried. We were all relieved when 
the signal was given for retiring, and gladly escaped 
from the presence of our hostess, who had the kind- 
ness to say to us, that if we ever dined with her 
again, she hoped she would be able to give us some- 
thing fit to eat. 

I wouldn’t give codfish and potatoes, with a 
cheerful countenance presiding over them, for a 
hundred such dinners,” said B., as we v/alked away 
from the house of my friend Clayton. It was 
made up of every delicacy I could desire, but tho 


56 


SPOILING A GOOD DINNER. 


sauce of cheerfulness and good-humour was not there 
Bless me ! If I had such a wife, I would” — 

“ What would you do ?” said I, laughing, as he 
paused to think what he would do. 

— Never invite my friends to dine with me,” 
he answered, joining in my laugh. ^^But isn’t it 
too had ?” he continued, speaking less emphatically, 
for a woman of Mrs. Clayton’s good sense to spoil 
a dinner in the way she did ours to-day ? If any 
thing was wrong, why didn’t she try to make it up 
by bright looks instead of dark ones ?” 

It’s her weakness and want of thought,” I re- 
plied. 

Her husband ought to teach her better. Ho 
ought to malce her think.” 

It isn’t always so easy a thing to make a woman 
do as you please, friend B.,” said I. ‘^And the 
hardest thing of all is to make her give up her pe- 
culiar humour and habitudes of mind. If she can 
be made to see how much she affects the comforts 
and happiness of others by their indulgence, she may 
do better, as if of her own accord; but she isn’t a 
person to be driven from her ground by any prompt 
and bold assault upon, or ridicule of, her foibles and 
weaknesses. And if ever you get a wife, you will 
find this out. Mrs. Clayton is a very excellent 
woman. All her friends like her. But she has the 
tault of making the worst instead of the best of a 
tning, This she cannot help. But she can help 


bpoiling a good dinner. 


57 


annoying others with its untimely and unlady-like 
exhibition •, and I am very much in hope that her 
being led so far astray to-day, will make her as sen- 
sible as she ought to be of her defect of character, 
and prevent an undue exposure of it on another oc- 
casion. At least, my charity goes so far.’^ 

The next time I took tea with my friend, the bis- 
cuits were a little heavy, but not a word was said 
about it j nor w^as there a cloud upon. Mrs. Clayton’s 
brow ! Whether there had been a curtain-lecture 
or not on the subject of the dinner, ,T had no means 
of knowing ; nor whether the subject had been al- 
luded 10 or not bet-vveen my friend and his wife. 
Enough that a change had conic over her in this 
particular, and a very agreeable one. For this there 
was of course, a cause, as there is for all elfects 
But satisfied with the effect, we shall not waste time 
in speculating upon, or endeavouring to find out the 


cause. 


OPENING AN ACCOUNT. 



Teie income of Mr. Bradford was not large ; and 
he found it somewhat difficult, as he often said, to 
get along. The making of both ends meet” was 
not the easiest thing in the world, yet he continued 
to accomplish the feat, year after year, by ^‘pinching 
and screwing,” to use his own language. Mr. Brad- 
ford was always looking forward to better times, and 
confidently believed that, in at least six or twelve 
months, he would find his affairs in a pleasanter con- 
dition. Money with him was always tight” now ; 
but promised to be easier before long. But this 
^‘before long” seemed in no huriy to come. Though 
it had been on the way a long time, it appeared 
always to be as far off as ever. 

The business of Mr. Bradford was that of a pat- 
tern-maker. With plenty of work, he could earn 
quite a handsome sum weekly. Often he made as 
much as twenty, and sometimes twenty-five dollars 
in that time. And again it happened that he would 
go a whole week without earning any thing at all. 

These dull weeks were very discouraging times for 
68 


OPENING AN ACCOUNT. 


59 


Mr. Bradford, seeing that he had a wife and four 
children to provide for. But taking the good weeks 
with the bad ones, the year through, all came out 
right in the end, and the pattern-maker managed to 
keep out of debt — and this for the reason that ho 
never bought any thing unless he had the money 
to pay for it. As for credit, he had none, or, 
at least, he never dreamed of asking for such a 
thing. 

It happened, one day, that lie was in the store of 
a dry-goods dealer with his wife, making some small 
purchases. Sometimes he dealt at this store, and 
sometimes at the one over the way. Jones, the 
keeper of the store in which he now was, knew that 
the custom was thus divided, and was turning over 
the matter in his mind as to how he should secure 
the whole of it to himself, when he heard Mrs. Brad- 
ford say to her husband, as she stood examining 
some cloth, 

‘‘ This is an excellent piece of goods, and very 
cheap. Just the thing for the boys; and they both 
want new suits.” 

can’t spare the money now, Jane,” replied 
Mr. Bradford. You will have to wait a month or 
six weeks.” 

‘‘ Oh, very well,” acquiesced the wife. It will 
have to do then.” 

^‘That’s a first-rate piece of goods,” said Jones 
the storekeeper, coming forward at this moment 


(50 


OPENING AN ACCOUNT. 


I bought it at a bargain. Let me sell you half a 
dozen yards.’^ 

^‘Not now/^ replied Mrs. Bradford. In the 
course of a month or six weeks we may want to pur- 
chase.’' 

You might just as well take it to-day as to wait 
six weeks,” said Jones, even if you were sure of 
getting the article then, which you are not. I sold 
ten yards of it this morning, and don’t expect to have 
any of it left at the end of three days. Mrs. Ellis 
was looking at it yesterday, and talked of taking 
seven or eight yards of it for her boys.” 

“ You’ll have more when this is gone,” remarked 
Mr. 15radford. 

“Not at the price,” replied the storekeeper. 
“We don’t pick up bargains like this every day. 
I’ve sold hundreds of yards of cloth, inferior to this 
in quality, for five dollars, and expect to sell hun- 
dreds of yards more at the same price.” 

“ What is the price of this ?” asked Mr. Brad- 
ford. 

“ Four dollars.” 

“ It’s very cheap,” remarked the wife. 

“Cheap! It’s almost thrown away. The price 
does not pa}^ for the manufacture. You’d better let 
me cut you off what you want.” 

“ No ; not to-day. Haven’t got the money to 
spare,” said Mr. Bradford. 

“ That’s of no consequence. I don’t want tho 


OPENING AN ACCOUNT. 


61 


money now. Til charge it, and you can pay the bill 
when it is most convenient.’^ 

“I don’t want that,” said the pattern-makci, 
taken by surprise at such a proposition. “ In five or 
six weeks I will have the money, and then we can 
buy.” 

“ But not at the present advantage. How many 
yards do you want?” 

“ Five,” replied Mrs. Bradford. 

If you take this now, it will make a difference to 
you of just five dollars, and that’s a matter of some 
consequence, these times.” 

“Indeed it is,” feelingly replied the pattern- 
maker. 

“ I’ll cut it off for you,” said Jones, beginning to 
throw open the piece of goods. He read in his cus- 
tomer’s face his secret willingness to accept the offer. 

“Remember,” Mr. Bradford laid his hand on the 
storekeeper’s arm; “I can’t pay for it in less than 
six weeks.” 

“All the same to me, if it’s in six months. I’m 
in no hurry for the money. You’re good enough 
for it. Glad to book you for five times the 
amount.” 

“ You’re liberal in your credits,” remarked the 
pattern-maker. 

“Not to every one. We always know what we 
are about.” 

By this time the five yards of cloth were measured 

VI.— 6 


62 


OPENING AN ACCOUNT. 


off, and the scissors had commenced the work of 
separation. 

“ Isn’t there something else you want smilingly 
inquired the storekeeper. Trimmings, of course.” 

“Yes, I must have trimmings,” replied Mrs. 
Bradford. 

These were furnished. 

“Here is some of the cheapest domestic muslin 
that has been in market for a year,” said Jones, at 
this point, throwing the article mentioned upon the 
counter. “ You’d better take a piece. Always use- 
ful in a family. Just look at that goods, madam.” 

Mrs. Bradford examined it. 

“ What do you think of that ?” said Jones, slap- 
ping his hand down upon the piece of muslin, with 
an air of self-satisfaction. “It’s a beautiful piece 
of goods. And I can sell it for eleven cents and a 
half.” 

“ That is cheap ! I paid twelve and a half for 
some not near so good.” 

“I don’t doubt it. They sell an article not a 
hundred miles from here f6r twelve and a half, not 
so good as this. I don’t know how people have the 
conscience to ask such prices. I can sell this for 
eleven and a half, and make a good profit. Shall I 
send you home a piece ?” 

“We need a piece of muslin very much,” said 
Mrs. Brad/ 3rd, turning to her husband “You 
want new shirts, and so do the boys.” 


OPENING AN ACCOUNT. 


6 ( 

Mr. Bradford did not reply, for he was not al 
together satisfied about the new system of dealing. 
He was an honest man, and understood that the bilk 
would have to be paid. 

I guess we’ve trespassed far enough on the 
kindness of Mr. Jones,” said he. 

Feel no hesitation on that score,” smilingly 
answered Mr. Jones. ‘^Buy whatever you want. 
The higher the bill, the better it will please me.” 

Six weeks will not be long in coming.” 

I don’t want the money in six weeks. If it will 
suit you as well. I’d as lief have six-month’s settle- 
ments as any other. I’ll open an account with you, 
and you can get whatever you want in your fiimily 
without the trouble of hunting up the money just at 
the time. The bills can be settled in January and 
July. A good many of my customers deal in this 
way, and I like it best. If you feel inclined to go 
upon the list, I shall be satisfied. With some people, 
the year’s income is not evenly distributed, and, as 
in your case now, the money is a little too late for 
the season.” 

Just so,” replied Mr. Bradford, who was really 
pleased with the storekeeper’s offer, as it promised 
to make things more easy with him than they had 
been heretofore. 

So it was arranged that an account should be 
opened; and that settlements once in six monthi 
ihould be made. Thus the cunning storekeepei 


64 


OPENING AN ACCOUNT. 


gained two points : he secured the whole custom of 
the Bradfords, and, by the new system, induced 
them to buy at least a third more than they would 
have done if obliged to pay down the cash for 
every thing. 

^VlK:n Mr. and Mrs. Bradford left Jones’s store, 
the bill against them was fifty dollars. As no cash 
was to be paid, wants and not means had governed 
their purchases. 

‘•Jones is a very pleasant, accommodating man,” 
remarked i\Irs. Bradford, as she stepped from the 
store with her husband. 

“He is, certainly,” was replied. “I hope this 
new arrangement will make things easier. As he 
very justly said, the year's income is so unevenly 
distributed. The money hardly ever comes in just 
at the right time. There are four months yet to 
January, and it Avill bo easy enough to pay this bill 
by that time.” 

linder this notion, the pattern-maker felt very 
comfortable, and returned to his shop with lighter 
feelings than he had known for some time. His wife 
soon began to appreciate more fully than at first the 
convenience of the new system. She no longer had 
to ask her husband for money when any little matter 
in the dry goods line was wanted, nor to bear the 
heretofore oft-recurring disappointment on learning 
that there was no money in the purse not otherwise 
needed It was se easy to step over to the store of 


OPENING AN ACCOUNT. 


65 


tlie smiling, polite Mr. Jones, and say, “ Cut me ofl 
this/’ and Cut me otF that.” 

From that time the wardrobe of the Bradfords 
was less scantily furnished than heretofore. Beal 
wants, and often imaginary ones, were supplied so 
easily, t-hat it was a pleasure to buy, instead of a pain, 
as it had too often been, in consequence of the almost 
empty purse — for a state of collapse was the usual 
condition of that important article. 

During the four months that intervened, from the 
time the credit account was opened, until the first 
of the ensuing January, Mr. Bradford was easier 
than usual in money matters, though he did not lay 
by any thing. After the first of December passed, 
he began to feel uneasy about the bill that would be 
rendered. 

‘‘ How much do you think it will be ?” he in- 
quired of his wife. 

Not a great deal,” she replied. We haven’t 
bought much since the first purchases that were 
made. It won’t be over sixty dollars, at the 
extent.” 

The pattern-maker sighed. Sixty dollars; that 
was a large sum ; and he hadn’t five dollars towards 
it yet. 

“ Will it be so much ?” he asked, in a voice that 
was by no means cheerful. 

It may not be quite that, but it won’t fall very 
far short.” 


6 * 


OPENING AN ACCOUNT. 




Then I must put by at least twelve dollars a 
weeli from now until New-year’s day. But I’m 
afraid it can’t be done. Every thing is as dull as it 
can be just now : I didn’t get in but seven dollars all 
last week.” 

Mrs. Bradford bad nothing encouraging to sug- 
gest. She could only answer her husband with a 
sigh. 

The weeks passed rapidly away. Christmas came, 
but it was not the cheerful merry time with the 
Bradfords it had usually been, for not over twenty 
dollars were yet laid up for the January bill of the 
polite and accommodating Mr. Jones. The fine fat 
turkey that came brown and smoking upon the 
table, neither looked so inviting to Mr. Bradford, nor 
tasted as delicious as the turkey that was served one 
year before; nor had the mince-pies that choice 
flavour for which the mince-pies of Mrs. Bradford 
were so distinguished. The thought of Mr. Jones’s 
bill destroyed for the pattern-maker the sweetness 
of every thing. Nor were the children as happy; 
for their Christmas presents were few and of trifling 
value, compared with what they had been in former 
times. Ah ! how sadly does debt interfere with 
domestic comfort ! 

During the week that followed, Mr. Bradford was 
able to add five dollars to the twenty already saved. 
But he took little comfort in thinking of that 
Bum. Was not the storekeeper’s bill sixty? How 


OPENING AN ACCOUNT. 


67 


was he to meet the demand soon to come against 
him ? 

At last, New-yeai-^s Day arrived. In going to 
his shop, the pattern-maker had to pass the store of 
Mr. Jones. He did not even glance in, but he felt 
as certain that the storekeeper was observing him, 
and thinking about his large bill, as if he had seen 
him and looked through a window in his breast. 

At dinner-time, when Mr. Bradford came home, 
he was struck with the sober face of his wife the 
moment he entered. His first thought, in explana- 
tion, was the bill; and he was not wrong in his 
conclusion. The bill had come in : Mr. Jones 
always sent round his bills punctually on the first 
of July and January. 

^‘Has Mr. Jones sent in his bill yet?^^ he in- 
quired. 

^^Yes,^^ was replied, in a faint voice; and the 
eyes of Mrs. Bradford fell to the floor as she spoke. 

How much is it The pattern-maker tried to 
speak steadily while asking this question; but he 
did not succeed. 

There was a pause. It seemed as if the wife 
could not bring herself to answer. At length, she 
murmured — 

A hundred and forty dollars ; but there must 
be some mistake.” 

‘^A hundred and forty dollars! Impossible!” 
The countenance of Mr. Bradford fell instantly, and 


(58 


OPENING AN ACCOUNT. 


assumed a look of astonishment and distress. Ha 
was appalled. 

“ There is surely some mistake/’ said Mrs. Brad- 
ford. He has charged somebody else’s goods to 
our account. We don’t owe him half that sum.” 

Where is the bill ?” 

Mrs. Bradford drew the paper from her pocket 
and handed it to her husband, who hurriedly un- 
folded it, and glanced at the footing-up. It was .too 
true — one hundred and forty dollars was the amount. 
As soon as the first agitation of the poor man’s mind 
had subsided, he said to his wife — 

If you think there is any thing wrong in this 
bill, we will examine it, item by item.” 

I know it is wrong !” confidently replied the 
wife. We never had any thing like that amount 
of goods.” 

Five yards of cloth, at four dollars a yard — 
twenty dollars. Is that right ?” said Mr. Bradford, 
beginning to read from the bill. 

Yes, that is right, of course.” 

‘^One piece of muslin, four dollars and sixty 
cents.” 

Four dollars and sixty cents ! It never came 
to that much.” Objected to by Mrs. Bradford. 

“ Let me see. Forty yards, at eleven and a half. 
Yes, that is right.” 

I didn’t think it came to so much. The las* 
piece we had only cost three dollars and a half.” 


OPENING AN ACCOUNT. 


69 


It was a smaller piece, I suppose/^ 

Yes, it was ; I remember now,’^ said the wife. 

Item after item was read off. To almost every 
one there was some demurrer ; but, finally, all but 
six were fully admitted, and about these Mrs. Brad- 
ford would not be positive; still, she could not 
bring them to mind. However, as this aggregate 
was only four dollars, they did not materially alter 
the face of the bill. 

Alas for the poor pattern-maker ! No appetite 
for bis dinner remained. He sat down in his u.sual 
place at the table— it would have been a weakness, 
producing shame, to have remained away — and took 
food upon his plate. But he could not eat. It was 
the same with his unhappy wife. While he was 
oppressed by a sense of inability to meet the heavy 
obligation, she was wretched under the conscious- 
ness that she was mostly to blame for its existence. 

When Mr. Bradford returned to the shop, he 
went two blocks out of his way to avoid passing the 
store of Jones, the dry -goods dealer. He did not 
work any during the afternoon ; for to apply him- 
self to his usual occupation was, for the time, out of 
the question. There was but one idea in his mind, 
and that — the enormous bill of Mr. Jones. How 
was it to be settled ? He could devise no means. 
At one time, in the desperation of his feelings, he 
determined to sell his tools, and thus cancel the 
obligation. But a little reflection showed him the 


70 


OPENING AN ACCOUNT. 


folly of this. Evening found him in no way relieved 
of the burden under which he was suffering. ^ hat 
was he to do ? How was the bill to be paid ? These 
were questions to which had come no satisfactory 
answers. Half the night he lay awake, pondering 
over the matter. On the next day, in going to his 
shop, Mr. Bradford again avoided passing the store 
of Mr. Jones. How could he meet him ? 

At dinner-time, the first question asked by Brad- 
ford was, if the storekeeper had sent about the bill? 

^‘No,^’ faintly replied his wife; to which a deep 
sigh was the only response. 

On the third day, Mr. Bradford’s mind, though 
still greatly distressed, began to rally. He was not 
a man to walk round an obligation, if a path that 
way could be found. It was this very honesty of 
character that made his pain so acute. It was time 
to see Mr. Jones, and come to some understanding 
with him. But what should he say to him? What 
could he say to him ? His money was what the 
storekeeper wanted ; yet to pay the bill was impos- 
sible. He had, now, just thirty dollars. This he 
was ready to pay over; but how little would that 
satisfy Mr. Jones? Moreover, the pattern-maker 
was proud and sensitive, if he was poor ; and the 
idea of going to the storekeeper, and admitting that 
he had run up a large bill with him at the same time 
that he had not the ability to settle it, made him 
faint at heart. At last, however, he saw only one 


OPENING AN ACCOUNT. 


71 


right way to act, and that was, to go to Mr. Jones 
and confess the truth. 

The storekeeper was younger than Mr. Bradford, 
by at least fifteen years ; and this disparity of ago, 
with some other circumstances, had heretofore given 
the pattern-maker a certain feeling of superiority 
when in his company. But this feeling had all de- 
parted, and he approached him as one approaches 
another who has power over him. 

It cost Mr. Bradford, it may well be imagined, 
a hard struggle to enter the store of his creditor. 
When Mr. Jones smiled blandly and reached out his 
hand, he could not return the smile or the warm 
pressure. 

I — I — Mr. Jones, he stammered, received 
y-your bill.^^ 

We always send in our bills on the first of the 
year,^^ replied Mr. Jones, his smile partly fading 
away, for he understood perfectly the meaning of his 
customer’s manner. 

Yes, so I am aware ; but I find your bill much 
beyond what I anticipated,’’ said Mr. Bradford, who 
was regaining his steadiness of tone. 

I believe it is all right.” This was said with 
some gravity of manner. 

‘‘ Oh, yes,” was quickly responded. I don’t 
question its correctness at all. I only alluded to 
the amount; sixty dollars was at the outside of my 
anticipations.” 


12 


OPENING AN ACCOUNT. 


Bills amount up, Mr. Bradford.” 

So I perceive ; and it’s a lesson I shall not 
soon forget. It is the first account I ever let run 
up at a store, and it’s the last one. Heretofore 
my money measured my wants, and , hereafter I 
mean to let the same rule govern in all my pur- 
chases.” 

As you like about that,” said the storekeeper, 
who did not particularly fancy the tone in which this 
was spoken. 

This restored to the mind of Bradford its sense 
of humiliation. He felt that he was the weaker 
and the humbled party in the transaction, and must 
assume the air of one who sued for favour. 

I am not a man with a large income, Mr. Jones,” 
said he, speaking in a subdued voice, and to me a 
bill of a hundred and forty dollars is no light mat- 
ter. I never had such a bill against me before, and 
I never mean to have one like it against me again. 
Nothing could have been farther from my imagina- 
tion than that it was accumulating at such a rate. 
But what is now to be considered, is the settlement. 
That, let me frankly tell you, cannot be done at 
once ; I have been able to save but thirty dollars 
towards it. If you will take that on account, I will 
pay it, and agree to give you ten dollars a month 
until the balance is paid off.” 

Mr. Jones was silent for some time after this pro- 
position was made ; he did not like it at all. His 


OPENING AN ACCOUNT. Vd 

bill was due, and he wanted the money. Mr. Brad- 
ford he had considered a first-rate customer, and in 
looking over his accounts, had set him down as one 
who would cash up at a moment’s warning. But 
he understood the position of his debtor, now that 
an explanation had been made, perfect!}^, and knew 
that, let him do as he would, the money would not 
come a day sooner ; and he was also aware that it 
was in his power to lose or retain his customer, ac- 
cording as he treated him in the present difficulty. 
So, overcoming his feelings of disappointment as 
rapidly as possible, and endeavouring to hide what 
was not suppressed, in an assumed tone of voice, he 
at length replied — 

I’m sorry, of course, Mr. Bradford, not to get 
the money at this time ; but, as you haven’t got it 
to pay, I can’t expect to receive it, and there’s no 
use in crying over what can’t be helped. I’ll take 
the thirty dollars you have with you — it will he so 
much in hand — and the other you can pay as soon 
as convenient.” 

I’ll agree to pay you ten dollars on the first of 
every month, punctually,” said Bradford, with a 
long-drawn respiration. He felt a sense of relief, 
yet the pressure of shame was still heavy. 

“ Very well; that will do.” 

Jones tried to affect an indifference that he did 
not feel. He was laying out a line for the future 
custom of the pattern-maker, at the same time that 

VI.— 7 


74 


OPENING AN ACCOUNT. 


he was drawing on the old debt as hard as he thought 
prudent. 

Bradford paid over the thirty dollars, and got a 
receipt. 

When you want any thing more in my line, you 
won’t forget me, of course,” said the storekeeper. 

No, certainly not,” answered Bradford. I 
shall feel under obligation to spend my money with 
you; but we shall not spend much until this bill is 
settled.” 

“ Don’t let that trouble you ; it will be all wiped 
out in a few months.” 

I hope so,” replied Mr. Bradford, as he left the 
store. A sense of relief followed this arrangement ; 
a difficulty had been met and overcome ; a mortify- 
ing ordeal had been passed, but a sting remained 
behind. 

Slowly the months passed away, and regularly the 
ten-dollar instalments were made. But the pattern- 
maker never met the storekeeper without fooling 
humbled, while a portion of the debt stood against 
him ; and even after the obligation was entirely can- 
celled, a sense of humilia,tion remained. While the 
debt was unpaid, Bradford required his family to 
make all their purchases at .the store of Jones; but 
since the bill has been settled, not a dollar of the 
pattern-maker’s money has entered the till of the 
latter. The credit system did not turn out a matter 
of much gain or pleasure to either party. 


Mli. Al^D MRS. SUNDERLAND’S 
EXPERIENCES. 


AGREEABLE NEIGHBOURS. 


You don’t know what a beautiful new parlour- 
carpet the Henley s have just bought/’ said Mrs. 
Sunderland to me, as I came in to dinner ; ‘‘ and it 
was only a dollar and a quarter a yard. It’s worth 
almost as much again as ours was when new, and 
we paid a dollar thirty-seven and a half.” 

Carpets are cheaper now than they were when 
we bought,” I returned, a little coldly. 

True. That was a long time ago. I have just 
been looking at ours. They are really very much 
defaced. Don’t you think we can afford to buy new 
ones ? I feel quite ashamed of them ; they are so 
worn and faded.” 

You did not think so indifferently of them until 
you saw Mrs. Henley’s new one.” 

Oh, yes, I did. But, I thought, may-be you 


76 ' 


SUNDERLANDS’ EXPERIENCES. 


might think we couldn’t afford others, and so 1 
didn’t say any thing about it. But now that the 
Henleys, who are really no better off than we are, 
have put down a beautiful new carpet on their par- 
lour, I feel as if we ought to do the sam'* Ours 
look awfully shabby.” 

‘‘ To carpet our parlours will cost at least fifty 
dollars, Jane.” 

Oh, no, it won’t, nothing like it.” 

‘‘It is easy to make the calculation. Figures 
never lie. It will take twenty yards for each 
parlour.” 

“ Not more than eighteen,” replied my wife. 

“It takes five breadths, and each room is four 
yards long.” 

As I said this, I took a rule from my pocket, and, 
in a few moments, proved the assertion I had made 
as to the length of the room. 

“ Four fives make twenty,” said I, as I arose from 
my bent position, “and twice twenty make forty. 
Forty yards of carpeting, at a dollar and a quarter a 
yard, will cost just fifty dollars.” 

“ A’n’t you mistaken ?” returned my wife, who is 
not overly smart at figures. “ Forty yards, at a dol- 
lar a yard, is only forty dollars. The forty quarters 
won’t make ten, certainly.” 

“ Divide four into forty, and you have ten. Or, 
multiply ten by four, and you have forty. Forty 
yards of carpeting at a quarter of a dollar a yard 


AGREEABLE NEIGHBOURS 


77 


will, therefore, ' make ten dollars ; and ten dollars 
added to forty dollars will make just fifty/^ 

“ True enough ! But I wouldn’t have thought it. 
Fifty dollars is a good big sum ; but then, you 
know, we don’t want parlour-carpets every year. It 
is six or seven years since these were bought. We 
shall have to get new ones very soon at any rate, 
and we might as well buy them now as at any other 
time; and better too, for I don’t believe they will 
be as cheap in six months from this.” 

My wife was fairly set out for new parlour-carpets, 
and meant to carry her point. This I understood 
very well, and not caring to fight a battle in which 
the odds were all against me, abandoned the contest, 
and gave her fifty dollars to buy the carpets, inwardly 
anathematizing Mrs. Henley, and wishing her a thou- 
sand miles away. 

I had a very comfortable income of a thousand 
dollars a year, out of which I laid it down as a rule 
that I ought to save at least two hundred dollars. 
This I had been able to do for a couple of years, 
until, unfortunately, the Henleys moved next door, 
and my wife made the acquaintance of the very 
agreeable Mrs. Henley, whose husband received a 
salary of twelve hundred dollars per annum, all 
of which was regularly spent by the year’s end. I 
had nearly four hundred dollars snugly laid away in 
the "Savings bank when the Henleys became our 
neighbours. The amount had already dwindled 


78 


SI Nl»£RLANDS' EXPERIENCES. 


away until only two hundred remained, when the 
parlour-carpets were to be replaced by new ones. 
These new neighbours and acquaintances were very 
agreeable people, certainly. I liked Henley very 
well, and my wife was perfectly fascinated with Mrs. 
Henley, who was a woman of some taste, but had rather 
extravagant notions forgone in her circumstances. 

Our style of living had been plain from the be- 
ginning, and with this style we were both very well 
satisfied. At the time of our marriage I had about 
a thousand dollars laid by, and this sum we expend- 
ed in furniture, keeping in view comfort and conve- 
nience rather than show. For two or three years, 
we found it necessary to . expend all that could be 
saved out of my salary, which, during that time, was 
only eight hundred dollars, in completing the com- 
forts of our little household. After that, my salary 
was increased, and I was able to save something. 
With the pleasant prospect, if health continued, of 
being able to save enough to purchase, in time, a 
comfortable dwelling, I was going on in a very self- 
satisfied state of mind, when the Henleys moved 
next door. Three weeks were allowed to go by, and 
then my wife suggested that it was no more than 
right for her to call upon our new neighbours, who 
were, she had ascertained, very respectable people. 
I had no objections to offer; and, therefore, made 
none ; and she, accordingly, one day made the pro- 
posed complimentary visit. 


AGREEABLE NEIGHBOURS. 


79 


1 called to see Mrs. Heuley this morning/^ she 
said to me when I came home to dinner. 

Well — how did you like her?’^ I returned, half 
indifferently. 

Very much, indeed/^ replied my wife, expressing 
herself warmly. She is one of the most agreeable 
women I ever met — a perfect lady in her manners. 
She says that I am the first one who has yet called 
upon her. She appeared pleased; and said that she 
should put me down at once in the number of her 
friends. They have every thing very nice about them. 
Mahogany chairs in the parlour, which is one long 
room, and a beautiful marble-top centre-table. On 
the mantle they have a vase of flowers in the centre, 
and candelabras at each end.^^ 

As my wife said this, she glanced toward the 
mantels in our plainly-furnished parlours. On one 
of them was a pair of cut-glass lamps, and on the 
other nothing. 

I really think, Mr. Sunderland, we might afford 
a pair of candelabras,’^ she digressed to say. ^‘They 
furnish a room so well, and only cost twelve or fifteen 
dollars.^^ 

I said nothing in reply; but thought our glass 
lamps looked very well, and that, for the mere ap- 
pearance of the thing, twelve or fifteen dollars was 
too much for persons in our circumstances to spend 
for candelabras. 

For sometime my wife continued to run on about 


80 


SUNDERLANDS’ EXPERIENCES. 


her agreeable neighbour. She had noticed ever^ 
thing in the parlour arrangement of her house, and 
the minutest particular of her dress, all of which she 
described. 

Two days only elapsed before Mrs. Henley re- 
turned the call, and asked my wife if she wouldn’t 
go shopping with her on the next day. This she 
promised to do, and as she had several articles to 
purchase herself, asked me for ten dollars with which 
to buy them. 

“ I declare !” said she to me, when I met her at 
dinner-time, after the shopping expedition with Mrs. 
Henley, “ Tve been out the whole morning and 
spent all my money, without buying an article I in- 
tended to get. I was going to buy you half a dozen 
pocket-handkerchiefs, a piece of muslin to make up, 
and some canton-flannel for you, not one of which 
articles have I got.^’ 

What have you bought I asked. 

I will show you,” she replied, and brought out 
a bundle from one of her drawers. As she unrolled 
it, she said — <‘We met with some of the cheapest 
collars I ever saw in my life. Real French lace, 
and only two dollars a piece. There, just look at 
that !” 

And my wife displayed before my eyes a worked 
collar that was no doubt all she alleged in regard to 
it, but as I was no judge, I could not be qualified tc 
the fact. 


AGREEABLE NEIGHBOURS. 


81 


Isn’t it sweet she said. 

Of course I could do no less than assent. 

‘vAnd it was only two dollars and a half. Mrs 
Henley bought one without a word, and I couldn’t- 
resist the temptation to do the same. I hadn’t a 
single handsome collar to my name, and felt really 
ashamed when I went out with Mrs. Henley, who 
had on one that didn’t cost less than five dollars, and 
mine was a mean, common-looking thing, that I had 
before we were married.” 

I hadn’t a word to say. 

Wasn’t I right to get it, Mr. Sunderland ?” my 
wife asked, looking me intently in the face. 

Certainly, my dear. You needed a fine collar, 
and you did right to buy one.” 

Now look at this.” 

A rich, showy dress-pattern met my eyes. 

‘‘ Isn’t that lovely ?” said my wife. 

It is,” I returned. 

^^Now, how much do you think it was a yard ?” 

“ Indeed I don’t know.” 

Only forty cents,” said my wife with an air of 
triumph. ‘‘ Last season, nothing like it could be 
had for less than fifty cents. Mrs. Henley said she 
had not seen any thing so cheap or handsome this 
season, and she has been about a good deal. She 
took a pattern at once, and as I am in want of a 
good dress, I did the same. It will make up beam 
tifully.. Don’t you think so ?” 


82 


SUNDERLANDS’ EXPERIENCES. 


Yus, I think it will.^^ What else could I say ? 
My wife needed a dress, and this she considered 
both pretty and cheap. If it pleased her, I was 
satisfied. 

Half a dozen little matters, of which I did not 
clearly understand the use, completed the list of pur- 
chases — things my wife would not have dreamed of 
wanting had she not been out shopping with her 
agreeable neighbour. On the next day I furnished 
ten dollars more to get the muslin, canton-flannel 
and pocket-handkerchiefs, which my wife said must 
be had immediately. As she had been so kind as 
to go shopping with Mrs. Henley, that lady very 
kindly consented to go out with my wife. The 
piece of muslin was bought, but the handkerchiefs 
and canton-flannel were omitted. The ladies saw a 
couple of silk bonnets, the price of which was only 
six dollars each, which so struck their fancies that 
they forthwith concluded to buy them. 

It is just the thing said my wife to me, draw- 
ing the really handsome and becoming bonnet upon 
her head, and looking twenty per cent, younger and 
prettier. Now don’t you think so ?” 

‘‘ I do indeed,” I could not help saying, and with 
a warmth of manner that greatly pleased my good 
wife. 

1 should have had to get a winter bonnet in a 
few weeks, and pay at least six dollars for one 
neither so good nor handsome as this. They wero 


AGHKEABLE NEIGHBOURS. 


83 


selling off, and I could not let the opportunity for 
securing a bargain like this pass.’^ 

I had nothing to advance by way of objection. 
Ten dollars more were supplied for shopping pur- 
poses, and the canton-flannel and pocket-handker- 
chiefs secured this time. 

Thus began my wife’s acquaintance with her 
agreeable neighbour, Mrs. Henley. From that period 
money went more rapidly. It cost, for shopping 
purposes alone, just double what it had done before. 
My wife’s appearance and that of our two little ones 
was very much improved, and this was agreeable 
enough, but I could not help feeling that it was all 
costing too much. I found that, instead of having 
fifty dollars at the end of the quarter, to lay up, I 
hadn’t a dollar. All was not spent in shopping, of 
course ; but what was true in the clothing depart- 
ment was true in every other department also. 

Before the Henley s had been our neighbours 
three months, the glass lamps had disappeared from 
the mantle of our front-parlour, and a set of cande- 
labras were to be seen in their place. 

Mr. Henley, upon whom my wife insisted I should 
call, I found an intelligent, agreeable man, and fre- 
quently spent a pleasant evening with him. As foi 
the ladies, they were soon as thick as pickpockets, 
and saw each other every day. From the first week 
of their acquaintance, the ideas of my wife began 
gradually to enlarge, and her taste to become rehned 


84 


8Underla^tds’ experiences. 


The thought of economy gradually faded from hei 
mind. Mrs. Henley became her model, and Mrs. 
Henley’s ideas of things her ideas. She used, every 
fall, to put up a few jars of preserves — and these 
were generally confined to peaches and plums, the 
cost of which did not exceed five dollars. But this, 
the first season of her acquaintance with Mrs. Hen- 
ley, she was visited with a regular preserving mania. 
Quinces, peaches, pears, plums, pine-apples, water- 
melon-rinds, and the dear knows what all ! were 
boiled down in the best double-refined loaf-sugar, 
and sealed up in glass jars, the number of which I 
will not pretend to give. Brandied peaches, too, had 
to be put up in the best white brandy, for which I 
paid somewhere between three and four dollars a 
gallon. Altogether, I am sure the brandy, fruit, 
sugar, and jars did not cost a fraction less than thirty 
dollars. I said so to my wife, but she scouted the 
idea as preposterous. 

And so the thing went on for more than a year, 
before the new carpets were bought, my deposits in 
the Savings bank steadily decreasing, until I had 
not over two hundred dollars left. I really began 
to feel serious, and to wish that Mrs. Henley had 
been married to the man in the moon. 

The new carpets looked very fine. I had to ac- 
knowledge that. But the chairs and the card-table 
appeared rather ashamed of themselves in such 
genteel company. 


AGREEABLE NEIGHBOURS. 


85 


Mrs. Henley says our chairs will never do.^^ 

I bad been looking for this. “ Confound Mrs. 
Henley I” 

Don’t suppose, reader, that I uttered this aloud. 1 
was not quite so rude. I only thought it. 

“We were looking at some excellent mahogany 
chairs, when we were in Walnut street this morning, 
at four dollars a piece. That would only be forty- 
eight dollars a dozen, and we paid twenty-five for 
these cane-seats. It’s a pity we hadn’t bought maho- 
gany chairs when we were about it. But these will 
do very well for the chamber.” 

When Mrs. Sunderland gets a thing into her head, 
there is no getting it out. x\fter she had said this, 
I saw the new chairs already in our parlours. This 
was in imagination ; but the real vision came soon. 
A draft upon my deposits in the Savings bank for 
fifty dollars, furnished my wife with the means of 
gratifying her desire to have a set of cushioned 
chairs. Mrs. Henley pronounced them beautiful, but 
suggested that there was still something wanting to 
complete the effect. There must either be a sofa- 
table, or a centre-table with a marble top. 

“ Mrs. Henley is very kind in her suggestions,” 
I could not help saying, a little sarcastically. My 
wife did not like this at all, and met it with a warm 
defence of her agreeable neighbour. I was silenced. 
No more was said about a centre or sofa-table for a 
week or two. Then my wife, with the aid of her 

VI.— « 


86 


SUNDERLANDS’ EXPERIENCES. 


friend, discovered the very thing that was wanted, 
in a handsome sofa-table, with a black Italian mar- 
ble slab, the price of which, exceedingly moderate, 
was only twenty-two dollars. As there was a pair 
of them, and the Henleys bought one, although they 
had a handsome centre-table already, I couldn’t 
object very strongly, and I did not. 

Carpets, chairs and sofa-table were costly articles, 
and their purchase made quite a distinct impression 
upon the little fund I had saved. But, besides these 
marked impressions, there was a gradual wasting 
away of my cherished deposit. Mrs. Henley was a 
woman who always wanted something, and never 
was satisfied unless she were spending money. In 
the course of a year and a half, she had so filled my 
wife with her spirit, that our current expenses, in- 
stead of coming within eight hundred dollars, ex- 
ceeded a thousand per annum, and my four hundred 
dollars were all drawn out of the Savings bank. I 
had cause to feel sober. 

This will never do,” I would say to my wife. 
“We are living beyond our income.” 

“ I am sure I try to be economical,’’ she would 
answer. “I don’t see how I could spend less. We 
live no better than other persons in our circumstances 
live. I am sure Mrs. Henley spends .two dollars on 
herself where I spend one.” . 

“ We used to get along very comfortably on eight 
hundred dollars a year. But we have not only spent 


AGREEABLE NEIGHBOURS. 


87 


a thousand dollars a year for the last two years, but 
have drawn every thing out of the Savings bank wo 
had laid up.^^ 

^^Yes, dear, but look how much furniture we 
have bought. These carpets, those chairs and 
tables, and that elegant rocking-chair; besides the 
dressing-bureau, wash-stand, and mahogany bed- 
stead/^ 

True. But are we any happier than we were 
I replied. To speak for myself, I can say that I 
am not.^^ 

“ We shall not have them to buy again. They 
will last us our lifetime,’^ suggested my wife, by 
way of consolation. 

Yes, but my dear, we are living at an expense 
of at least eleven hundred dollars, and my salary, 
you are aware, is but a thousand.’^ 

My wife looked very serious. 

I don’t know what we shall do,'’ said she, in a 
desponding tone. 

“ If 3'ou don’t, I must find out,” was my mental 
reply. 

When I left home, I took the way direct to the 
store of my landlord. 

Mr. L ,” said I, have you another house ^ 

a mile or two away from the one I now occupy 

Vacant, you mean ?” 

<< Of course.” 

Yes. I received the key this morning of a very 


88 


SUNDERLANDS’ EXPERIENCES. 


excellent house up in Spring Grarden District. But 
the rent is two hundred and fifty/^ 

“ Fifty dollars more than I now pay. No matter. 

That will do. Now, Mr. L , I want you to write 

me a formal notification to leave your house within 
three days.^’ 

Why so ? That is a strange proceeding.^’ 

I gave him a history of the effect produced upon 
my finances by our very agreeable neighbours, and 
declared that if he did not do as I wished, I would 
be ruined. 

My landlord laughed at me, but promised to do as 
I desired. You may judge of my wife’s surprise 
when a peremptory notice to quit was received. 

He can’t get you out until the end of the quar- 
ter,” suggested Mr. Henley. 

I wouldn’t go for him !” said Mrs. Henley, with 
strongly marked emphasis. 

But I affected to be greatly indignant at the land- 
lord’s note, and said I wouldn’t live in his house 
another week if he gave it to me rent free for a year. 
On the next day I took my wife out to see the new 
house in Spring Garden. She strongly objected to 
going so far away 

« So far away from where ?” I asked. 

This she was not able to answer very satisfactorily. 
When, however, she saw the house, and found it to 
be so much larger, handsomer, and more convenient 
than the one we had left, she waived all objections, 


SAYING AT THE SPIGOT. 


89 


and we were snugly settled in it before a week had 
elapsed. The only thing that my wife regretted it 
the change, was the loss of her agreeable neighbour, 
Mrs. Henley. I need not express my feelings on 
that subject. 

Soon we had matters and things going on in the 
old way, and I am now laying up from one to two 
hundred dollars a year, and shall continue to do so 
I hope, unless the Henleys take a fancy to move into 
our neighbourhood, which heaven forbid ! 

So much for our very agreeable neighbours. They 
were pleasant people certainly, but their acquaintance 
cost too much. 


SAYING AT THE SPIGOT. 

Since our removal into Spring Garden, Mrs. 
Sunderland’s old and very agreeable neighbour, Mrs. 
Henley, has only paid her one or two formal visits. 
Withdrawn from her sphere and influence, the mania 
for spending money which raged for a couple of years 
has subsided, and my wife sees her error quite as 
clearly as I do, and laments it even more bitterly. 
She is exceedingly anxious to save at every point, in 
order to make up what has been lost, and in at- 
tempting to do so has, in several instances, demon- 
gtrated with great clearness the folly of the man 


90 


SUNDERLANDS’ EXPERIENCE. 


who was charged with saving at the spigot while 
he was letting out at the bunghole. 

We have usually employed one domestic to cook 
and do general housework, and hired a washerwoman 
and ironer every week. Our washings are pretty 
large — at least so my wife says, and she ought to 
know. After we moved into Spring Garden, my 
wife concluded to dispense with the ironer, and this 
saved sixty-two and a half cents a week. Of course 
she had to take her place; so our one servant had just 
about as much to do as she could get through with. 

I expressed my objection to this, but my wdfe 
said that she would rather do it. 

But you are not strong, Anna,^’ I urged, and 
will find standing all day at the ironing- table much 
too fatifjuino;.” 

‘‘ I suppose I will be a little tired, but that is no 
matter. Getting tired won’t hurt me.” 

‘‘ Over fatigue might, though,” I returned. 

‘‘ I will guard against that,” she made answer. 

“Still, Anna, I would rather jiay the woman. ' 
You have enough to do in the family.” 

“ A half dollar and eleven pence is a good deal to 
pay out every wmek, besides giving a woman a day’s 
boarding, and might just as w^ell be saved as not. 
So, Harry, you needn’t say a word about it. I’ve 
made my mind up to do a share of the ironing, and 
you know very well, by this time, that if I will, I 
will, you may depend on’t ” 


SAVING AT THE SPIGOT. 


91 


And if you won’t, you won’t, so there’s an end 
on’t,” I returned, good-humouredly. Well, I sup> 
po.se for me to object is useless ; but I doubt if ycu 
save any thing in the long run.” 

“ Very well, doubt away, but I know, that if I 
save sixty or seventy cents a week, I will save thirty 
or thirty-five dollars a year. If I am not very smart 
at figures, I can at least calculate that.” 

Of course my wife had her way, and the very 
next week undertook to do half the ironing. When 
she got up on Tuesday morning, the ironing day, I 
saw by the expression of her face that she was not 
well. 

Does your head ache ?” I asked. 

‘‘ Yes, a little.” 

“ More than a little, I apprehend, Anna. You 
do not look at all well. Of course you will not at- 
tempt ironing to-day.” 

“ Certainly I will,” she replied. 

You are very wrong, Anna. You might mako 
yourself sick,” I urged. 

“ Oh, no. I shall feel better after a while. I 
told Hannah last week that I shouldn’t want her 
any more. So I must do it, sick or well.” 

It was in July, and the day had opened breeze- 
iess and sultry. Even while sitting quite still at« 
my desk, the perspiration was starting from every 
pore. About eleven o’clock, however, there was a 
change. The air began to move gently from the 


92 


SUNDERLANDS’ EXPERIENCE. 


east, and by twelve was blowing freshly. The 
thermometer had already fallen several degrees. 
The change 'was delightful. New life seemed to 
rush through every vein. 

At two o’clock, I went home to dinner. By this 
time, the difference in the temperature since morn- 
ing was at least twenty degrees. The sky was ob- 
scured by clouds, and the wind that was blowing 
steadily from the north-east, penetrated my thin 
summer-clothing, and actually produced a sensation 
of chilliness. 

On arriving at home, I found my wife with flushed 
cheeks and a look of extreme fatigue, standing at the 
ironing-table, which was placed across the kitchen- 
door, into which the cool wind was passing, and of 
course, striking full against her. She was dressed 
in a thin, loose wrapper, and her neck and a part of 
her bosom exposed to the cool air. 

‘‘ Anna, you are very imprudent to stand in that 
draft, overheated as you are,” I said, the moment T 
saw her. 

The air is delightful,” she merely returned. 

But you will take cold,” I urged. 

No danger. I’m not afiaid.” 

It might be the death of you. Not afraid to 
stand, in the overheated state in which you are, in 
a chilly east wind ?” 

There — there, Harry ?” my wife said a little 
impatiently '•Don’t come here to worry me now 


8AVING AT THE SPIGOT. 


93 


Tm so tired, that if it wasn’t for this cool, bracing 
air, I could’nt stand.” 

Are you almost done ?” I asked. 

“ Yes, very nearly. It took that Hannah abou; 
all day to do what I have done this morning. I 
can iron two pieces to her one. I wouldn’t have 
her again in the house.” 

I couldn’t help thinking of the story I had heard 
about two labouring-men, one an old hand at the 
business, and the other green. They were set to 
work at some kind of excavation, and the new hand 
threw two shovelfuls of earth to the old one’s one ; 
but in the long run, the old hand, who worked up 
to his strength, but without exhausting it, did twice 
the labour of the other. My inference, which proved 
to be correct, was, that Hannah did a fair and rea- 
sonable day’s work, while my wife, working on the 
high-pressure principle, did a great deal too much — 
double what she couldhavedoneworkingday after day. 

A’n’t you going to eat any thing?” I asked, at 
dinner-time, finding my wife declined being helped 
to any dish on the table. 

1 don’t feel the slightest appetite,” she returned. 

^‘Try a piece of this lamb,” I urged. “It is 
very nice.” 

But she shook her head, saying, “ I couldn’t 
swallow a morsel of it.” 

Of course I did not eat with much appetite. In 
fact, I hardly tasted the food I put into my mouth 


SUNDERLANDS' EXPERIENCE. 


M 


It’s the last time she does the ironing/' I said 
to myself, as I walked slowly back to the office 
where I was engaged in writing. I call this poor 
economy. Ten chances to one if she don’t make 
herself sick ; and there won’t be much saving in 
that.” 

As evening approached, and my thoughts began 
to turn toward home, I felt uneasy. I expected to 
find my wife suffering from entire physical prostra- 
tion. My fears were not idle. The reality, indeed, 
was worse than my fears. She was in bed, and 
suffering from a severe pain in her side, that was so 
much increased by breathing that she could hardly 
help crying out at every inspiration. Coughing or 
pressure caused intolerable pain. 

Once before, my wife had been attacked with 
pleurisy, and I knew too well the alarming symp- 
toms. In her overheated state, the cold air had 
caused a sudden check of perspiration, and inflam- 
mation of the pleura was the consequence^ 

I started immediately for our family physician, 
and was fortunate enough to find him in. He ac- 
companied me home. On arriving, we found that 
all the smyptoms had become much worse since I 
left. My poor wife screamed with nearly every 
breath. 

Bleeding was instantly resorted to, which gave 
temporary relief. But, before ten o’clock, the pain 
returned with great violence. I again went for the 


SAVING AT THE SPIGOT. 


95 


doctor, who repeated the bleeding, and then ordered 
leeches, fifty of which were applied. But the pain 
only abated in a partial degree. All night she suf- 
fered most cruelly, and was so bad in the morning 
that I had to go for the doctor again soon after day- 
light. 

More blood was then taken by the lancet, and 
fifty more leeches applied to the chest before relief 
was obtained. Then I had the satisfaction to see 
her sink away into sleep, the first time she had 
closed her eyes since the attack. 

She slept for a couple of hours, and then awoke 
with a return of the pain in her side, to allay which 
leeching was again resorted to. 

For five days this bleeding and leeching was kept 
up, before the inflammation was sufficiently subdued 
to allow of revulsive treatment. Three large blis- 
ters were applied to her chest and arras. 

It need hardly be said, that with such a disease 
and such treatment, my wife was reduced so low 
that a nurse had to be obtained for her. She was 
weak as an infant ; for, added to the pain and the 
severe mode of attacking the disease resorted to by 
the physician, she took but little nourishment for 
many days. Nearly three weeks elapsed, from the . 
time she was taken before she was well enough to 
come down-stairs and take her usual place at the 
head of the table, and then she had so little strength 
left that she could not do the most simple needle 


96 


SUNDERLANDS’ EXPERIENCE. 


work. Months elapsed before her health was fairly 
restored — I will not say fairly restored/’ either, 
far she has never been as she was. 

And now let me calculate the amount of saving 
made by my wife in dispensing with a woman once 
a week to help do the ironing. The saving was ex- 
actly sixty-two and a half cents to a fraction. That 
was the creditor side of the account. The debtor 
side outbalanced it seriously, as far as the account 
was entered up, which never could be accurately 
done. Indeed no attempt to strike a clear balance 
was ever made. 

The first and most imposing item was the doctor’s 
bill, which, was exactly twenty dollars. Then, five 
dollars were paid for leeching, and nine dollars to a 
nurse for three weeks’ service. Here was thirty- 
four dollars of unmistakeable expense. Beyond this 
was the loss of nearly two months’ time by my wife, 
to make up for which a seamstress had to be em- 
ployed for several weeks at half a dollar a day. 
Instead of being able to get along with one domestic 
and a washerwoman and ironer, two girls have had 
to be hired ever since. Taken all in all, it may be 
fairly concluded that for sixty -two and a half cents 
ihat my wife saved at the spigot on the occasion 
referred to, she let seventy or eighty dollars e»cape 
from the bunghole. 

As in duty bound, I made the circumstance the 
occasion of sundry appropriate hints. My wife saw 


MY wife’s party. 


97 


her error plainly enough, and acknowledged it with 
axpressions of regret for her folly ; but many weeks 
did not elapse after she considered herself well 
enough to go about the house, before she suggested 
that one domestic would be enough in the family. 
But I vetoed the proposed reduction of help in such 
a determined manner, that I carried my point. Still 
the propensity to save a present half-dollar at the 
risk of losing ten, is so strong, that if I did not 
constantly interfere, and almost command things to 
be done or left undone, we would suffer almost as 
much from my good wife’s efforts to save as we did 
from her mania to spend, as related under the head 
of Agreeable Neighbours.” 


MY WIFE’S PARTY. 

A BETTER woman than Mrs. Sunderland does not 
exist anywhere, though I, her husband, do say it 
myself. I consider her one of the “ salt of the 
earth,” and I think I ought to know. Still Mrs. 
Sunderland has her weaknesses, and one of these is 
a disposition to think well of everybody. On this 
head, I believe, no one can accuse me of weakness. 
I am not aware that, as a general thing, I think any 
better of people than I ought to think. No — I am 
not blind to anybody’s faults, though I can see and 

VI.— 9 


98 


SUNDERLANDS' EXPERIENCES. 


appreciate excellences as well as any one. But to 
my story. 

After we had risen a little in the world, and could 
afford not only to live in our own house, but to en- 
joy our share of the elegances and luxuries of this 
life, we found ourselves surrounded by a good many 
who, before, were not over-liberal in their attentions. 
Mrs. Sunderland believed their friendship sincere; 
but I reserved to myself the right to doubt the 
genuineness of some of the professions that were 
made. I didnH like the “My dear Mrs. Sunder- 
land nor the particular solicitude expressed by 
not a few in every thing that concerned my wife^s 
welfare; and when she talked about Mrs. Jones 
being such a kind, good soul, and Miss Peters being 
so disinterested in every thing, I shrugged my shoul- 
ders, and reserved the privilege of a doubt in regard 
to all being gold that glittered. 

Not having been raised in fashionable life, we 
had no taste for display, and, although we had our 
share of company, whether we cared about it or not, 
we had never ventured so far to sea as to give a 
party, although we had accepted several invitations 
to assemblages of this kind. But some of Mrs. Sun- 
derland’s good friends and acquaintances insisted 
upon it, last winter, that she must give an enter- 
tainment, and they used such cogent arguments that 
she, good soul ! was won over. I remained for a long 
time incorrigible ; but, as nothing could . put it out 


MY wife's party. 


99 


of Mrs. Sunderland's head that it was due to her 
position and relations to give a party, I, with much 
reluctance, withdrew my opposition, and forthwith 
the note of preparation was sounded. 

Who shall we invite ?" was the first question. 

Our circle of acquaintance had considerably in- 
creased within two or three years, and when we went 
over the list, it was found to be rather large. 

You will have to cut down con^derably," said I, 

To do so without giving offence will be diffi- 
cult," replied my wife. 

Better cut all off, then," was on my tongue, but 
I repressed the words, feeling that it would be un- 
kind to throw cold water upon the affair at this stage 
of its progress. 

You havn't got Fanny and Ellen on your list," 
I remarked, after a good number of erasures had 
been made. They were two of my nieces ; good 
girls, but poor. Both were dressmaker's apprentices. 
They were, learning a trade in order to relieve their 
father, an industrious, but not very thrifty man, 
from the burden of their support. I liked them 
very much for their good sense, agreeable manners, 
and strong affection for their parents. 

Shall we invite them ?" inquired my wife. 

‘‘ Certainly !" I replied. Why not?" 

Will they be able to make a good appearance ? 
You know that a number of fashionable people will 
be here." 


100 


SUNDERLANDS' EXPERIENCES. 


“ If you doubt it, we will send them each a hand- 
some dress-pattern with the invitation.’' 

Perhaps we had better do so,” was Mrs. Sun- 
derland’s approving remark, and the thing was done 
as I had suggested. 

The pruning down of the invitation-list was no 
easy matter, and it was not without many fears of 
giving offence that my wife at last fixed upon the 
precise number of persons who were to honour us 
with their company. 

The exact character of the entertainment was next 
to be considered, and an estimate of cost made. 
Several ladies, au fait in such matters, were con- 
sulted; and their opinions compared, digested, and 
adopted or rejected as they agreed with, or differed 
from, what we thought right. 

^^It will cost at least a hundred dollars,” said 
Mrs. Sunderland, after we had come to some under- 
standing as to what we would have. The sum 
seemed large in her mind. 

“ If we get off with two hundred, we may be 
thankful,” I replied. 

Oh, no. It can’t go above a hundred dol- 
lars.” 

‘^We shall see.” 

If I thought it would cost so much, I would” — 

There is no retreat now, Mrs. Sunderland. We 
have taken the step initiative, and have nothing to 
do but go through with the matter as best we can. 


MY wife’s party. 


101 


My word for it, we shall not be very eager to give 
another party.” 

This threw a damper upon my wife’s feelings that 
I was sorry to perceive, for now that the party must 
be given, I wanted to see it done in as good a spirit 
as possible. From that time, therefore, I was care- 
ful not to say any thing likely to awaken a doubt as 
to the satisfactory result of the coming entertain- 
ment. 

The evening came in due time, and we had all 
things ready. I must own that I felt a little ex- 
cited, for the giving of a fashionable party was 
something new in the history of my life, and I did 
not feel altogether at home in the matter. Unac- 
customed to the entertainment of company, especially 
where ceremony and the observance of a certain 
etiquette were involved, I was conscious of an awk- 
ward feeling, and would have given double the cost 
of the party for the privilege of an escape from the 
trials and mortifications it promised to involve. 

In order to give additional beauty and attractive- 
ness to our parlours, we had purchased sundry arti- 
cles of ornamental furniture, which cost over a 
hundred dollars, and which were of no manner of 
use but to look at. 

It' was so late before the 61ite of our company be- 
gan to arrive, that we were in some doubt whether 
they were going to come at all. But, towards nine 
o’clock, they came along, and by ten we were in the 


102 


SUNDERLANDS" EXPERIENCES. 


full tide of successful experiment. My nieces, Fanny 
and Ellen, were among the first to appear, and they 
looked pretty and interesting. 

As soon as the first embarrassment consequent 
on the appearance of the extra-fashionables had worn 
off, and I felt at home once more in my own house, 
I began to look around me with an observant eye. 
About the first thing that attracted my attention 
was the sober aspect of a certain lady, whose hus- 
band, by a few fortunate adventures, had acquired 
some money, and lifted her into “ good society,^^ as 
it is called. She was talking to another lady, and 
I saw that their eyes were directed towards my 
nieces, of whom I felt a little proud ; they looked 
and behaved so well. 

What’s all this about ?” said I to myself, and 
I kept my eyes upon the ladies as intently as they 
did upon Ellen and Fanny. Presently I saw one of 
them toss her head with an air of dignified contempt, 
and, rising up, make her way across the room to 
where her husband stood. She spoke to him in 
evident excitement, and directed his attention to my 
nieces. The sight of them did not seem to produce 
any unpleasant effect upon him, for he merely 
shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and answered in a 
few words that I could see were indifferent. But 
his wife was in earnest, and, placing her arm within 
his, drew him away toward the door. He remon- 
strated, but she was not in a humour to listen to 


MY wife’s party. 


108 


any thing, and, with surprise, I saw them retii e from 
the parlours. My first impression was to follow 
them, but the truth flashing across my mind, I felt 
indignant at such conduct, and resolved to let them 
do as they pleased. In a little while, the offended 
lady, bonneted, cloaked, and boaed, came sweeping 
past the parlour-doors, with her husband in her 
train, attracting the attention of a third part of the 
company. A momenjt after, and she had passed into 
the street. 

Who is that? What^s the matter ?^^ went whis- 
pering about the rooms. 

It is Mrs. L 

“ Mrs. L ! Is she sick V* 

Why has she gone V* 

But no one seemed at first to know. Soon, how- 
ever, the lady to whom she had communicated the 
fact that we had insulted our company by inviting 
mantua-maker girls,^^ whispered to another the 
secret, and away it went buzzing through the rooms, 
finding its way as well to the ears of Fanny and 
Ellen as to those of the rest of the company. About 
one-half of the ladies present did not exactly seem 
to know whether they ought to follow the example 

of Mrs. L or noti^ and there was a portentous 

moment, when almost the waving of a finger would 
have caused our party to break up in disorder. 

The moment my nieces understood the feeling 
that had prompted the lady to withdraw indignantly 


J04 


SUNDERLANDS^ EXPERIENCES. 


they aro&e, and were retiring from the room, when I 
intercepted and detained them with as little ceremony 
as possible. They begged hard to be permitted tc 
retire, but I said no ! for my blood was up,^^ as 
the saying is. 

Ellen and Fanny are worth as many Mrs. 

L said I to myself, as you can find from 

here to Jericho. 

The disaffected ones noticecL I suppose, my deci- 
sion in the matter, and thou^t it prudent not to 
break ^ith Mr. and Mrs. Sunderlai^^ who could 
afford to be independent. Money is a great thing ! 
Humph ; there was a time in our history — but, no 
matter. We are people of character and standing 
now. 

We had rather a dull time after the withdrawal 

of Mrs. L . For a little while the spirits of the 

company rallied, under the effects of wine and a good 
supper, but they soon flagged again, and a sober cast 
of thought settled upon almost every countenance. 
My poor wife found it impossible to retain a cheerful 
exterior; and my nieces looked as if almost any 
other place in the world would have been a paradise 
in comparison. 

At least an hour earlier t^an we had anticipated, 
our rooms were deserted, and we left alone with our 
thoughts, which, upon the whole, were not very 
agreeable. Mrs. Sunderland, the moment the last 
guest retired, went back into the brilliantly-lighted 


MY wife’s party. 


105 


parlours, and, sitting down upon a sofa, burst into 
tears. She had promised herself much pleasure, 
but, alas ! how bitterly had she been disappointed ! 
I was excited and indignant enough to say almost 
any thing, and a dozen times, as I paced the rooms 
backward and forward, did I check myself when 
about uttering words that would only have made 
poor Mrs. Sunderland feel ten times worse than she 
did. 

The next time we give a party*^ — 

^^We won’t said I, taking the words out of 
my wife’s mouth. She was recovering from her 
state of mortification, and beginning to feel indig- 
nant. 

You’ve said it exactly,” responded Mrs. Sunder- 
land. I call this throwing away a couple of hun- 
dred dollars in a very bad cause.” 

So it strikes me. When fifty or sixty people 
eat an elegant supper, and drink costly wine at my 
’expense again, they will behave themselves better 
than some of our high-bred ladies did to-night. As 
for Mrs. L , Fanny and Ellen are worth a hun- 

dred of her. It’s my opinion that if she knew every 
thing she would curtail her dignity a little. If I’m 
not very much mistaken, her husband will go to the 
wall before a twelvemonth passes.” 

On the next day we settled all accounts with con- 
fectioner, wine-merchant, china-dealers, and waiters. 
The bills were over a hundred and fifty dollars, ex- 


106 


SUNDERLANDS’ EXPERIENCES. 


elusive of a hundred dollars paid, as before intimated^ 
for parlour-ornaments to grace the occasion. 

So much, paid for worldly wisdom, said I, 
after all was over. donH think we need to give 
another party. 

Mrs. Sunderland sighed and shook her head. 
Poor soul ! her kind and generous nature was hurt. 
ShTe had looked upon a new phase of character, and 
the discovery had wounded her deeply. 

A few months after this unfortunate party, from 
which so little pleasure and so much pain had 
sprung, I said to my wife, on coming home one day : 

It’s as I expected. Pride must have a fall.” 

Why do you say that ? What has happened ?” 
inquired Mrs. Sunderland. 

L has failed, as I predicted, and his lady 

wife, who turned up her aristocratic nose at our 
excellent nieces, is likely to see the day when she 
will stand far below them in society.” 

I spoke in an exulting voice. But my wife in; 
stantly reproved my levity. She cherished no ani- 
mosities, and had long since forgiven the offence. 

So much for my wife’s party. 


THE HOUSE-CLEANING. 


Talk of a washing-day ! What is that to a whole 
week of washing-days ? No, even this gives no true 
idea of that worst of domestic afflictions a poor man 
can suffer — house-cleaning. The washing is con- 
fined to the kitchen or wash-house, and the effect 
visible in the dining-room is in cold or badly -cooked 
meals; with a few other matters not necessary to 
mention here. But in the house-cleaning — oh, dear ! 
Like the dove from the ark, a man finds no place 
where he can rest the sole of his foot. Twice a year, 
regularly, have I to pass through this trying ordeal, 
willy-nilly^ as it ig said, in some strange language 
To rebel is useless. To grumble of no avail. Up 
come the carpets, topsyturvy goes the furniture, and 
swash! goes the water from garret to cellar. I don’t 
know how other men act on these occasions, but 1 
find discretion the better part of valour, and sub- 
mission the wisest expedient. 

Usually it happens that my good wife works 
herself half to death — loses the even balance of her 
mind — and, in consequence, makes herself and aL 
around her unhappy. To indulge in an unamiable 
temper is by no means a common thing for Mrs. 
Sunderland, and this makes its occurrence on these 
occasions so much the harder to bear. Our last 
house-cleaning took place in the fall. I have been 


108 


BUNDERLANDS’ EXPERIENCES. 


going to write a faithful history of what was said, 
done, and suffered on the occasion ever since, and 
now put my design into execution, even at the risk 
of having my head combed with a three-legged stool 
by my exceMent wife, who, when she sees this in 
print, will be taken, in nautical phrase, all aback. 
But, when a history of our own shortcomings, mis- 
haps, mistakes and misadventures will do others 
good, I am for giving the history and pocketing the 
odium, if there be such a thing as odium attached to 
revelations of human weakness and error. 

“ We must clean house this week,^^ said my good 
wife, one morning as we sat at the breakfast-table — 
“every thing is in a dreadful condition. I can’t 
look at nor touch any thing without feeling my flesh 
creep.” 

I turned my eyes, involuntarily, around the room. 
I was not, before, aware of the filthy state in which 
we were living. But not having so good “ an eye 
for dirt” as Mrs. Sunderland, I was not able, even 
after having my attention called to the fact, to see 
“ the dreadful condition” of things. 1 said nothing, 
however, for I never like to interfere in my wife’s 
department. I assume it as a fact that she knows 
her own business better than I do. 

Our domestic establishment consisted at this time 
of a cook, chambermaid and waiter. This was an 
ample force, my wife considered, for all purposes of 
house-cleaning, and had so announced to the in- 


THE HOUSE-CLEANING. 


109 


dividuals concerned some days before she mentioned 
the matter incidentally to me. We had experience, 
in common with others, on our troubles with ser- 
vants, but were now excellently well off in this 
respect. Things had gone on for months with 
scarcely a jar. This was a pleasant feature in 
affairs, and one upon which we often congratulated 
ourselves. 

When I came home at dinner-time, on the day 
the anticipated house-cleaning had been mentioned 
to me, I found my wife with a long face. 

Are you not well I asked. 

Tm well enough, Mrs. Sunderland answered, 

but Tm out of all patience with Ann and Hannah.” 

What is the matter with them ?” I asked, in 
surprise. 

They are both going at the end of this week.” 

“ Indeed ! How comes that ? I thought they 
were very well satisfied.” 

So they were, all along, until the time for house- 
cleaning approached. It is too bad !” 

“ That's it — is it ?” 

Yes. AnJ I feel out of all patience about it. It 
shows such a want of principle.” 

^^Is John going too ?” I asked. 

Dear knows ! I expect so. He's been as sulky 
as he could be all the morning — in fact, ever since 
I told him that he must begin taking up the carpets 
to-moriow and shake them.” 

VI.— 10 


110 


SUNDERLANDS’ EXPERIENCES. 


“Do you think Ann and Hannah will really go?” 
I asked. 

“ Of course they will. I have received formal 
notice to supply their places by the end of this week, 
which I must do, somehow or other.” 

The next day was Thursday, and, notwithstanding 
both cook and chambermaid had given notice that 
they were going on Saturday, my wife had the whole 
house knocked into^f, as the printers say, determined 
to get all she could out of them. 

When I made my appearance at dinner-time, I 
found all in precious confusion, and my wife heated 
and worried excessively. Nothing was going on 
right. She had undertaken to get the dinner, in 
order that Ann and Hannah might proceed uninter- 
ruptedly in the work of house-cleaning j but as Ann 
and Hannah had given notice to quit in order to 
escape this very house-cleaning, they were in no 
humour to put things ahead. In consequence, they 
had “ poked about and done nothing,” to use Mrs. 
Sunderland’s own language; at which she was no 
little incensed. 

When evening came, I found things worse. My 
wife had set her whole force to work upon our cham- 
ber, early in the day, in order to have it finished as 
quickly as possible, that it might be in a sleeping 
condition by night — dry and well aired. But, in- 
stead of this, Ann and Hannah had “dilly-dallied” 
the whole day ovv'r cleaning the paint, and now the 


THE HOUSE-CLEANING. 


Ill 


floor was not even washed up. My pcor wife was 
in a sad way about it ; and I am sure that I felt 
uncomfortable enough. Afraid to sleep in a damp 
chamber, we put two sofas together in the parlour, 
and passed the night there. 

The morning rose cloudily enough. I understood 
matters clearly. If Mrs. Sunderland had hired a 
couple of women for two or three days to do the 
cleaning, and got a man to shake the carpets, nothing 
would have been heard about the sulkiness of John 
or the notice to quit of cook and chambermaid. 
Putting upon them the task of house-cleaning was 
considered an imposition, and they were not disposed 
to stand it. 

I shall not be home to dinner to-day I said, 
as I rose from the breakfast-table. ^^As you are 
all in so much confusion, and you have to do the 
cooking, I prefer getting something to eat down 
town.” 

“Very well,” said Mrs. Sunderland — ‘^so much 
the better.” 

I left the house a few minutes afterwards, glad to 
get away. Every thing was confusion, and every 
face under a cloud. 

How are you getting along ?” I asked, on coming 
home at night. 

Humph ! Not getting along at all !” replied 
Mrs. Sunderland, in a fretful tone. “ In two days, 
the girls might have thoroughly cleaned the house 


tl2 


STJNDERLANDS' EXPERIENCE?. 


from top to bottom, and what do you think they 
have done ? Nothing at all 

Nothing 'at all ! They must have done some- 
thing.’^ 

^^Well, next to nothing, then. They haven’t 
finished the front and back chambers. And what is 
worse, Ann has gone away sick, and Hannah is in 
bed with a real or pretended sick-headache.” 

Oh, dear I” I ejaculated, involuntarily. 

^^Now a’n’t things in a pretty way 
I think they are,” I replied, and then asked, 
what are you going to do 

I have sent J ohn for old Jane, who helped us 
clean house last spring. But, as likely as not, she’s 
at work somewhere.” 

Such was in fact the case, for John came in a 
moment after with that consoling report. 

Go and see Nancy, then,” my wife said, sharply, 
to John, as if he were to blame for Jane’s being at 
work. 

John turned away slowly and went on his errand, 
evidently in not the most amiable mood in the world. 
It was soon ascertained that Nancy couldn’t come. 
Why can’t she come ?” inquired my wife. 

She say’s she’s doing some sewing for herself, 
and can’t go out this week,” replied John. 

^^Go and tell her that she must come. That 
my house is upside down, and both the girls are 
sick.” 


,v 


THE HOUSE-CLEANING. 


113 


Bat Nancy was in no mood to comply. John 
brought back another negative. 

“ Go and say to her, John, that I will not take no 
for an aifswer : that she must come. I will give her 
a dollar a day.’^ 

This liberal offer of a dollar a day was effective. 
Nancy came and went to work on the next morning 
Of course, Ann did not come back ; and as it was Han- 
nah’s last day, she felt privileged to have more head- 
ache than was consistent with cleaning paint or scrub- 
bing floors. The work went on, therefore, very slowly. 

Saturday night found us without cook or chamber- 
maid, and with only two rooms in order in the whole 
house, viz. one chamber on the second story. By 
great persuasion, Nancy was induced to stay during 
Sunday and cook for us. 

An advertisement in the newspaper on Monday 
morning, brought us a couple of raw Irish girls, who 
were taken as better than nobody at all. With these 
new recruits, Mrs. Sunderland set about getting 
things to right.” Nancy plodded on, so well 
pleased with her wages, that she continued to get 
the work of one day lengthened out into two, and 
so managed to get a week’s job. 

For the whole of another precious week we were 
in confusion. 

How do your new girls get along ?” I asked of my 
wife, upon whose face I had not seen a smile for ten 
days. 


10 * 


114 


SUNDERLANDS’ EXPERIENCES. 


Don’t name them, Mr. Sunderland ! They’re 
not worth the powder it would take to shoot them. 
Lazy, ignorant,, dirty, good-for-nothing creatures. I 
wouldn’t give them house-room.” * 

^^I’m sorry to learn that. What will you do?” 
I. said. 

Dear knows ! I was so well suited in Ann and 
Hannah, and, to think that they should have served 
me so ! 1 wouldn’t have believed it of them. But 

they are all as destitute of feeling and principle as 
they can be. And John continues as sulky as a 
bear. He pretended to shake the carpets, but you 
might get a wheelbarrow-load of dirt out of them. 
I told him so, and the impudent fellow replied 
that he didn’t know any thing about shaking 
carpets ; and that it wasn’t the waiter’s place, any 
how.” 

He did?” 

Yes, he did. I was on the eve of ordering him 
to leave the house.” 

I’ll save you that trouble,” I said, a little 
warmly. 

Don’t say any thing to him, if you please, Mr. 
Sunderland,” returned my wife. ‘‘ There couldn’t 
be a better man about the house than he is, for all 
ordinary purposes. If we should lose him, we shall 
never get another half so good. I wish I’d hired a 
man to tshake the carpets at once; they would have 
been much better done, and I should have had John’s 


THE nOUSE-CLEANING. 


115 


cheerful assistance about the house, which would 
have been a great deal/^ 

That evening I overheard, accidentally, a conver* 
sation between J ohn and the new girls, which threw 
some light upon the whole matter. ~ 

^^John,^^ said one of them', ‘^what made Mrs. 
Sunderland's cook and chambermaid go aff and lave 
her right in the middle of house-clainin' 

“ Because Mrs. Sunderland, instead of hiring a 
woman, as every lady does, tried to put it all off 
upon them." 

Indade ! and was that it ?" 

Yes, it was. They never thought of leaving 
until they found they were to be imposed upon ; 
and, to save fifty cents or a dollar, she made me 
shake the carpets. I never did such a thing in my 
life before. I think I managed to leave about as 
much dirt in as I shook out. But ITl leave the 
house before I do it again." 

So would I, John. It was a downright mane 
imposition, so it was. Set a waiter to shaking car- 
pets!" 

“ I don’t think much has been saved," remarked 
the waiter, for Nancy has had a dollar a day ever 
since she has been here." 

Indade 1" 

Yes; and besides that, Mrs. Sunderland has had 
to work like a dog herself. All this might have 
been saveds if she had hired a couple of women at 


116 


SUNDERLANDS’ EXPERIENCES. 


sixty-two and a half cents a day for two or three 
days, and paid for having the carpets shaken ; that’s 
the way other people do. The house would have 
been set to rights in three or four days, and every 
thing going on like clockwork.” 

I heard no more. I wanted to hear no more ; it 
was all as clear as day to me. When I related to 
Mrs. Sunderland what John had said, she was, at 
first, quite indignant. But the reasonableness of 
the thing soon became so apparent that she could 
not but acknowledge that she had acted very un- 
wisely. 

This is another specimen of your saving at the 
spigot,” I said, playfully. 

“ There, Mr. Sunderland ! not a word more, if 
you please, of that,” she returned, her cheek more 
flushed than usual. “ It is my duty, as your wife, 
to dispense with prudence in your household ; and 
if, in seeking to do so, I have run a little into ex- 
tremes, I think it ill becomes you to ridicule or cen- 
sure me. Dear knows! I have not sought my own 
ease or comfort in the matter.” 

“ My dear, good wife,” I quickly said, in a 
soothing voice, I have neither meant to ridicule 
nor censure you; nothing was farther from my 
thoughts.” 

‘‘ You shall certainly have no cause to complain 
of me on this score again,” she said, still a little 
warmly. When next we clean house, I will take 


THE HOUSE-CLEANING. 


117 


care that it shall be done by extra help altoge- 
ther.^^ 

Do so by all means, Mrs. Sunderland. Let 
there be, if possible, two paint-cleaners and scrub- 
bers in every room, that the work may all be done 
in a day instead of a week. Take my word for it 
the cost will be less; or, if double, I will cheerfully 
pay it for the sake of seeing ‘ order from chaos rise' 
more quickly than is wont under the ordinary sys- 
tem of doing things." 

My wife did not just like this speech, I could see, 
but she bit her lips and kept silent. 

In a week we were without a cook again; and 
months passed before we were in any thing like 
domestic comfort. At last my wife was fortunate 
enough to get Ann and Hannah back again, and 
then the old pleasant order of things was restored. 
I rather think that we shall have a different state 
of things at next house-cleaning time. I certainly 
hope so. 


DOING AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


Did you notice that beautiful sofa which Mr. 
Hamilton has bought?’^ said Mrs. Foster to hei 
husband, as they gained the street on leaving the 
house of a friend. 

‘^Yes, I noticed that they had a sofa.’^ 

It was a beauty. Oh, I wish I had one, Henry ! 
Our parlours look so naked with nothing in them 
hardly, but a dozen common chairs.’^ 

I am sure, Hannah, they are neatly carpeted, 
and have a pair of good tables and a looking-glass.’^ 

“ But that’s no kind of furniture. Everybody 
has a sofa now, and I’m sure we might.” 

But I am not able to buy a sofa, Hannah.” 

I am sure you earn as much as Mr. Hamilton 
does, and our family is no larger.” 

I don’t know how it is, then,” Mr. Foster re- 
plied, thoughtfully. We cannot afford to live in 
the same style that Mr. Hamilton does.” 

‘^Oh, you only think so. Certainly there can be 

no good reason why we may not. Nearly all of our 

acquaintances have handsomer things about thorn 
118 


DOING AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


119 


than we have, and I am sure that we ought to do 
as other people do who are no better 

I don't know about that, Hannah. I should 
not like to do altogether as some ‘ other people^ do, 
of whom I could tell.'^ 

“ Yes, but this is another matter.'' 

Well, perhaps it is. But, really, I don't think 
we can afford to buy a sofa." 

‘^Oh, yes, we can. You earn twelve dollars a 
week, and I am sure that is good wages. We can 
live on eight dollars easily, and with the other four 
we might buy a great many nice things for our par- 
lour during the course of the year." 

But don't you think it would be much better 
for us, Hannah, if we can really save four dollars 
a week, to put into the Savings bank, instead of 
spending it for what we don't want ?" 

‘‘Oh, but we can put money into the Savings 
bank after we get a sofa. Four dollars a week 
comes to over two hundred dollars a year; but a 
beautiful sofa will not cost over forty or fifty dollars. 
Mrs. Hamilton says that they paid forty-five dollars 
for theirs, and that the cabinet-maker does not want 
his money for six months. We could get one like 
it, and save more than enough to pay for it long 
before the six months are out." 

“ Still, Hannah, we haven't saved half that sum 
in the past six months, or, indeed, in the whole time 
that has elapsed since our marriage." 


120 


DOING AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


^^No, but we can do it easily enough if we try; 
eight dollars a week is plenty for us to live on. I 
will be as saving as I can in every thing. The 
children will want but very few clothes for some 
time to come, and you have several pairs of old pan- 
taloons and one or two old coats that I can cut up 
and make for them when those they have are worn 
out.'' 

“ Who made Mr. Hamilton's sofa ?" Mr. Foster 
asked, evidently moved by his wife's arguments. 

Mr. Bruce, around in Thompson street ; and 
Mrs. Hamilton says that her had another just like 
hers." 

How much did you say ?" 

Forty-five dollars." 

Forty-five dollars," (musingly.) “ Eleven fours 
make forty-four. If we could save four dollars a 
week for a little over eleven weeks, we could pay 
for it." 

“ Yes, indeed ! and we can easily save that much," 
Mrs. Foster said, in a very lively tone. 

“ You think so." 

I /cnoto so.” 

A sigh followed this positive assertion of his wife, 
for Mr. Foster felt by no means so certain. But 
as his better half seemed confident, his own mind 
gradually became assured, and finally it was agreed 
that he should gc the next day and buy a sofa on a 
credit of six months, if that time could be obtained 


DOING AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


121 


on the purchase. In due time the sofa was obtained, 
for Mr. Foster was knowo to the cabinet-maker as 
an honest and industrious mechanic. 

Oh, is it not beautiful Mrs. Foster exclaimed, 
as the highly-polished piece of furniture was brought 
in, and placed in a small parlour. 

It is certainly a comfortable affair,’' the husband 
said, seating himself, and rising and falling with 
the spring of the seat. 

For some time, Mrs. Foster enjoyed her new sofa, 
with a feeling of lively pleasure. About four weeks 
after, she called in again with her husband to spend 
an evening with Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton. 

“ How neat and even elegant they have every 
thing?” said Mrs. Foster, as she proceeded home- 
ward, after their visit had been completed. 

‘‘ Yes, they certainly have every thing around 
them very comfortable.” 

And Mr. Hamilton earns no more than you do.” 
No.” 

How beautiful their set of cane-scat chairs 
looked ! And how much more beautiful they are 
than common wooden ones like ours.” 

And yet, Hannah, the latter are just as com- 
fortable.” 

“ Oh, no, indeed ! Why, how you talk ! There 
is no chair so pleasant as the cane-seat chair.” 

<< But they cost a good deal.” 

^<Only twenty-five dollars a dozen. And you 

VI.— 11 


12‘2 


DOINCi AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


know we can save that much in about six or seven 
weeks.^^ 

So then you are bent on having a set of these 
chairs 

“ Oh, no — not bent on it. But then T think we 
ought to have a set. Other people can have them, 
who are no better off 5 and I don’t see any reason 
why we can’t do as other people do.” 

I don’t myself see exactly how we are going to 
do as other people in the matter of buying a set of 
cane-seat chairs. One thing is certain, we have not 
yet saved a cent towards paying for our new sofa, 
and it is four weeks since it was sent home.” 

^‘ Oh, but, Henry, you know that we have had to 
pay George’s quarter-bill in that time, which was 
four dollars. And then we have bought a barrel of 
flour.” 

Very true. But will there not be, every week 
or two, something or other to take one, or two or 
three, or even five dollars more than what is required 
for all current expenses ?” 

“ Oh, no. Why should there be ? Eight dollars 
a week will meet every thing.” 

I could hope so, Hannah.” 

‘‘ I know sOy Henry. Other people can get along 
on this sum, and I am sure that we can.” 

The husband did not feel so confident ; still, he 
allowed his better judgment to come under her in- 
fluence, and his true perceptions as to the conse- 


DOING AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


123 


quences were obscured. On entering their own neat 
and comfortable home, for Mrs. Foster was quite a 
tidy housewife, they seated themselves upon the 
sofa, now the pet article in their house. 

How mean those chairs do look Mrs. Foster 
said, with a toss of the head and slight curl of the 
lip. 

They don^t look so handsome, certainly, as Mr. 
Hamilton’s; but, then, they are very good chairs of 
their kind.” 

Of their kind ! Oh, yes, of their kind ; but 
they are not the kind that other people have.” 

“ Yes, but who wants to live as some people live? 
Some have na parlour at all ; not a spare-room, nor 
a spare-bed in the house.” 

But that wouldn’t suit me at all. I like to live 
as other people in similar circumstances live; as, 
for instance, the Hamiltons, who are not a bit 
better off than we are.” 

I am sure, Hannah, that it puzzles me to tell 
how they live in the style that they do, on twelve 
dollars a week.” 

“ It’s plain enough, I think ; they save three or 
four dollars out of their ordinary expenses, and 
spend that in getting comfortable things around 
them.” 

Then, if they save money, certainly we should.” 

‘‘Of coufse, and we can save just as they can. 
You will get a set of cane-seat chairs, won’t you?” 


124 


DOING AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


We cannot buy them now, for I have not a 
single dollar ahead.^^ 

“ That needn’t matter, you know, for you can 
buy just as many as you want on credit. You know 
half a dozen chair-makers who would be glad to sell 
them to you on credit.’^ ' 

‘‘ Don’t you think it would be better for us to 
wait until we have saved enough to buy them with? 
Then there would be no danger of our not being able 
to pay for them.^^ 

Oh, but we can pay for them easily enough/' 

Well, if you think so,” the husband said, yield- 
ing his better convictions to the persuasions of his 
wife. 

On the next day, Mrs. Foster, by permission of 
her husband, went to a chair-maker with whom he 
was acquainted, and bought a dozen cane-seal chairs, 
which were to be paid for in six months. The bill 
amounted to twenty-four dollars. It was with no 
ordinary degree of pride and pleasure that she sur- 
veyed her new chairs after they had been sent home; 
but all at once she perceived that her parlour-carpet, 
which was of cotton, had become much faded, and 
really disgraced her new sofa and chairs. 

A’n’t they beautiful !” she remarked to her hus- 
band when he came home in the evening from the 
shop. 

“ They are certainly very beautiful chairs, Han- 
nah.” 


DOING AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


125 


But/^ — hesitating. 

“ But what, Hannah ?” 

“ But, indeed, this carpet really looks too bad-’' 

“ How looks bad, Hannah 

It is all worn and faded, and is nothing but a 
common piece of cotton carpeting at best.'' 

It cost me sixty cents a yard though, Hannah." 

But that is no price to pay for a good carpet. 
Mrs. Hamilton gave a dollar and a quarter; and I 
am sure that we can afford to have as good things 
as she can. You earn as much." 

If I do, somehow or other it does not seem to 
go as far," the husband replied, in a half-despond- 
ing tone. 

There is no reason why it should not. And 
then, not only Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, but half a 
dozen others that I know of, who have elegant 
ingrain carpets, sofas, and cane-seat chairs, and I 
don't know what all, have no larger income than we 
haxe.^' 

I am sure I don't know how they manage — I 
can't get any ahead. It takes all that I can earn to 
buy something to eat and wear, and have enough 
left to pay the house-rent." 

Why, I am sure, Henry, we can live on eight 
dollars a week, and you can earn twelve." 

I am afraid not." 

Oh, yes, we can. I'll guaranty that our ex- 
penses shall not exceed eight dollars." 

11 * 


126 


DOING AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


They have exceeded it, you know.^^ 

That was only because we did not economize 
properly. And the last four weeks, you know, we 
have had some extra expenses that do not occur 
more than once in three months.” 

Thus Mrs. Foster urged, and her husband soon 
yielded. The desire to do as other people did — to 
have things about her as other people had them, 
was too strong to be resisted, and obscured all ideas 
of prudence. Thirty yards of ingrain carpeting 
were bought on trust, at one dollar and twenty-five 
cents per yard, amounting to thirty-seven and a half 
dollars. 

For the first time in his life, Mr. Foster found 
himself burdened with debt — a debt of more than 
one hundred dollars. This was a sum of no mean 
importance for a man of family, the extent of whose 
earnings was but twelve dollars a week, and espe- 
cially for one who had a nervous shrinking from the 
thought of being in debt. 

Various efforts were now made to reduce their 
weekly expenses down to the minimum standard of 
eight dollars. Sometimes it would seem to fall be- 
low that, but again it would swell beyond it in spite 
of every effort. At the expiration of the fourth 
month from the time the sofa was bought, they had 
managed, by the closest economy, to lay up twenty 
dollars. About this time, on returning from a visit 
to a friend. Mi s. Foster, who was too fond of con- 


DOING AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


127 


Krasting her own condition with that of other people, 
said — I am really almost ashamed to go out, some- 
times, Henry. Tve never had a silk dress since 
we were married ; hut other women can have them. 
Mrs. Jones, who called to-night where we were 
visiting, had a beautiful black silk, and so had Mrs. 
Maxwell, and their husbands are only mechanics, 
and earn no more than you do. Mrs. Hamilton has 
two silk dresses, a light one and a dark one, and has 
besides a beautiful Cashmere shawl and lace collars, 
and I donH know what all ; and I haven’t got any 
thing. I think you might get me one silk dress in 
your life.” 

But how in the world am I to get it for you, 
Hannah, without the money ?” 

We’ve got twenty dollars laid up, you know.” 

“ Yes, I know ; but I need not tell you that it is 
to go towards paying for the sofa, and the money 
will be due in two months.” 

In two months ! Oh, we can easily save enough 
in that time to pay for the sofa. Four dollars a 
week will be thirty-two dollars. I only want twelve 
for the dress, and that will leave eight out of the 
twenty we have now, and eight added to thirty-two 
will make forty. If you pay him forty, punctually, 
you needn’t fear but that he will wait willingly 
enough for the other five a week or two.” 

<< But we haven’t saved four dollars a week, 
Hannah.” 


128 


DOING AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


Yes, but we can do it, and must do it/^ 

Can’t you wait a little while longer, Hannah ? 
Y'ou have done without a silk dress for a good many 
years, and surely 3'’ou might get along still, until 
our things arc all paid for.” 

But Mrs. Foster could not listen to the voice of 
reason. Other people had silk dresses, and she felt 
*Onean,” as she expressed it, whenever she went out 
anywhere. Twelve dollars were therefore expended 
for a black silk dress, and two more to get it made. 
This reduced the reserved fund of twenty dollars 
down to six dollars. 

Week after week now passed rapidl}’-, and in spite 
of every effort to save money, the wages of Mr. 
Foster melted away like snow in the warm sunlight. 
Finally, the time came when the sofa must be paid 
for, and there were only thirty dollars made up. 
But ten of this sum had to go for a month’s rent, 
which fell due at the same time. Twenty, then, 
were all that Mr. Foster could raise, and the price 
of the sofa was forty-five dollars. 

“ Beally, Hannah, I don’t know what I shall do 
about this ! I cannot bear the thought of not paying 
Mr. Bruce for his sofa on the day that the money 
tails due.” 

“ But I wouldn’t trouble myself about it, Henry, 
if you can’t, you can’t; and Mr. Bruce will have to 
do as other people do.” 

‘‘ How is that ?” 


DOING AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


129 


Wait for his money until you can give it to him 
He’ll no doubt be glad to get twenty down and 
trust you for the balance.” 

He has trusted already six months, and now 
his monej" is due according to, contract.” 

^‘Well, it’s no use to trouble yourself about it 
Pay him twenty dollars and give him the four dollars 
a week that we save. That will soon pay him off.” 

But we don’t save four dollars a week.” 

Yes, but we can, though, and we must.” 

I am not so sure, Hannah.” 

But I am. Other people, who get no more than 
we do, can live comfortably and buy a great many 
nice things ; and there is no reason .why we may not 
do the same.” 

This was a silencing argument. Still it was to 
Henry Foster a profound mystery how Mr. Hamilton 
and others could make an appearance so far beyond 
his own, and yet receive no higher wages. With a 
keen sensation of shame and reluctance, he proceeded 
to the shop of Mr. Bruce, on the day the money for 
the sofa was due, and thus accosted the cabinet 
maker : 

“ I regret exceedingly, Mr. Bruce, that I cannot 
pay you all the money that is due for the sofa that 
I bought from you six months ago. I have only 
twenty dollars now, but you shall have the rest in a 
few weeks.” 

I regret it also, Mr. Foster,” the cabinet-maker 


130 


DOING AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


replied, for I have a note to pay to-morrow, and 
calculated on you as certainly as if I had the money 
in my own hands. But, we must only do the best 
we can. You will give me your note at thirty days 
for the balance, upon which I have no doubt that I 
can raise the money. 

This was so reasonable a proposition, that Mr. 
Foster could not object to it, and accordingly gave 
his note for twenty-five dollars at the time proposed. 
This arrangement brought a temporary relief of 
mind. Four weeks, however, soon rolled round, and 
notwithstanding the proposed economy, ten dollars 
only had been saved, and that sum would be due for 
rent in a few days. The landlord was punctual, and 
Foster had not the heart to tell him that he must 
wait. Three days afterwards the note fell due, and 
there was not a dollar to meet it. The amount was 
only twenty-five dollars, but that was an important 
sum when demanded and the debtor not able to 
produce it. With the bank notice in his hand, Mr 
Foster was driven at last to call upon the cabinet- 
maker. 

I am sorry, Mr. Bruce, said he, “ but really, I 
cannot pay this note to-day.” 

Mr. Bruce smiled and replied — 

“ I have no control over it, Mr. Foster ; I passed 
it away to iMr. Strong, the broker.” 

“ Do you think he will give me a little more time 
on it ?” asked the debtor. 


DOING AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


131 


I am sure I do not know, Mr. Foster. Perhaps 
he will. You had better go and see him, any 
how.^^ 

Acting upon his advice, Henry Foster went, 
though with great reluctance, to the office of Mr. 
Strong. 

You have a small note of mine,'^ said he, in a 
hesitating tone. 

‘‘ Well was the quick and somewhat harsh in- 
terrogatory. 

I am not able to pay it to-day, sir.” 

^^Then why did you give it? No man ought to 
give his note without a certainty of paying it when 
it falls due.” 

I thought I would be able, and intended paying 
it, but I have been disappointed.” 

Well. What do you want ?” 

I want you to let me have a little more 
time.” 

How much ?” 

A month.” 

If you will pay me three dollars, I will extend 
the time one month.” 

Oh yes, I will do that !” said Foster, instantly, 
relieved by the idea of getting a whole month^s re- 
spite on twenty-five dollars, for the small sum of 
three dollars. 

“ I will come in and arrange it in the course of 
an hour,” said he, and then returned to his shop and 


132 


DOING AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


obtained an advance on that week’s wages of the 
amount needed. This was paid to the broker and 
the note renewed. 

But trouble was only beginning. Twenty-four 
dollars, for the cane-seat chairs, became due in three 
days after, and the chair-maker’s bill came in 
promptly. 

I cannot really pay this for a week or two,” said 
Foster. 

I want money very badly, and the time upon 
which you bought them is up,” was the reply. 

I know it is. And I regret very much that I 
cannot pay you, but so it is.” 

A pause ensued, in which the chair-maker had 
hard thoughts about Mr. Foster, and Mr. Foster had 
mortifying thoughts in relation to himself. 

“ Well, what is to be done ?” at length asked the 
chair-maker, in a tone that touched acutely the 
feelings of Mr. Foster. 

Eeally I do not know. I hope that 1 shall be 
able to give it to you soon.” 

How soon ? Name a time.” 

^^That is hard to do.” And Foster looked 
thoughtful and troubled. 

Can you pay me in a month ?” 

I will try.” 

Will you give me your note at thirty days ?” 

Certainly.” 

And the note was given A temporary relief of 


DOING AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


133 


mind followed this arrangement, — soon, however, to 
be succeeded by gloom and despondency. 

As was to have been expected, both of the notes 
fell due at a time when there was no money to pay 
them. Here, then, was more trouble. It so hap. 
pened that the last note, like the first, had been sold 
to Mr. Strong, the broker. The second due-day oi 
the note given for the balance of the sofa came 
round first. After a good deal of apparent reluct- 
ance, the broker agreed to renew for thirty days 
longer, for four dollars, which sum was paid. On 
the second note, he seemed less willing to give an 
extension ; but finally agreed to do so for four dol- 
lars more.' To pay these two sums, and the rent 
which had again fallen due, Foster had to take the 
small amount that he had been able to save, and 
also get an advance of a week’s wages. 

Little real pleasure did he derive from his sofa, 
chairs, and carpet. A few months before, all had 
been contentment. He then owed nothing, and had 
no real want unsupplied. Now he knew not a 
moment^s true enjoyment. The most he could pos- 
sibly save out of his wages were two dollars a week ; 
and at the rate he was now paying interest on his 
two notes, even if he should be permitted to renew 
them, all of that amount would be regularly con- 
sumed. The prospect was gloomy ; raore especially, 
as the carpet was soon to be paid for. 

About two weeks before the time when the nexr 

VI.— 12 


134 


DOING AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


ordeal bad to be passed through, Foster came home 
from his work one evening with a sadder face than 
usual. 

What do you think, Hannah V* said he. All 
of poor Hamilton's things have been taken and sold 
for debt.^' 

“ Oh !” ejaculated Mrs. Foster, her face growing 
pale with instinctive fear. 

“ It is too true, Hannah. I am told that he is 
behindhand three or four hundred dollars.” 

It isn’t possible !” 

“I have always wondered how he and several 
others whom we know, could afford to live as they 
did, and their wages no more than mine. In his 
case, at least, I now understand it perfectly. He 
has lived beyond his means.” 

Mrs. Foster was silent — for she felt that, through 
her persuasion, her husband had been induced to 
imitate their example and go beyond his means. 
For some time past, she had ceased to take the de- 
light in her new furniture that she at first experi- 
enced. The consciousness of being in debt, and in 
debt with little hope of paying, preyed upon her 
husband’s mind, and his uncomfortable state was 
very naturally superinduced upon her. More than 
once had she regretted the influence exercised by 
her in reference to the sofa, chairs, etc., but'it was 
too late for regrets to be of any avail. 

Tiroe passed on, and brought the whole amv.iunt 


DOING AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


135 


due by Foster within the compass of three days. 
That amount was nearly one hundred dollars. lie 
felt that it was utterly impossible to pay it, and 
even if he were to get the debt regularly renewed, 
the enormous interest charged by the broker would 
more than equal the principal within a year. 

The trial at last came upon him. The rent fell 
due first. He had just ten dollars, and that was 
paid. Next came the note of twenty-five dollars. 
After some debate in his mind, he determined not 
to call upon the broker, but to let the note be pro- 
tested. That consequence of course resulted. He 
was served with a protest — and three days after, 
with another. Then came the bill for carpets, and 
as it became known that he had suffered two notes 
to be protested, the demand was urgent. 

The broker, however, generally did his business 
in a summary manner. Warrants were issued against 
Foster, which had to be answered. 

^^What shall I do now?” he asked hiniaelf. 

Give security ? No — that will never do. What 
have other people to do with my debts ? I will not 
ask any one to go my security. I will stand or fall 
alone.” 

Hannah, I have been warranted to-day for that 
sofa, and them chairs,” said he. 

Warranted, Henry ?” ejaculated Mrs. Foster, 
turning pale. 

Yes, I have been warranted ! and he clenched 


136 


DOING AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


nis teeth hard together, for it was a severe trial to 
his natural feelings. 

Mrs. Foster gave way to tears and self-reproaches 

It is all my fault. But what shall we do, 
Henry 

We must do as other people do” replied Henry. 

“ And how is that 

Sell off our things and pay our debts ! You 
were anxious to do as other people, and this is what 
other people do, who, like us, have been so foolish 
as to live beyond their means.^^ 

Mrs. Foster did not reply, but she felt keenly the 
rebuke. In the course of the next week, under an 
execution which followed a confession of the judg- 
ment rendered against him, Henry Foster’s sofa, 
chairs, and carpets, with his pair of tables and look- 
ing-glasses, were sold at public auction. Happily 
for him, they brought just enough to pay off the 
claims against him, and make him a free man once 
more. 

The old carpets were put down, and the old chairs 
replaced; but the tables and looking-glasses were 
gone. Still, Mrs. Foster’s heart was lighter than it 
had been for some time. 

“ I am tired of doing as other people do,^' said 
she, with a subdued, half-sad smile, to her husband, 
when quiet was again restored. 

And «o am I, Hannah, heartily tired. Getting 
tine furniture on trust, like other pejophy may be 


DOING AS OTHER PEOPLE. 


137 


pleasant enough — but having it sold for debt, liltei 
other jyeoplej is not so pleasant a part of the alfair.^' 
^^Not quite, was Mrs. Foster’s simple response. 
From that time she has been a wiser woman. 


WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY? 


CHAPTER L 

But what will people say Mrs. Ashton asked, 
looking into her husband’s face with a concerned 
expression. 

I don’t know that we ought to think about what 
others may say,” replied Mr. Ashton, thoughtfully. 

Why, how you talk, husband ! I am sure it is 
of the first importance to avoid singularity !” 

So you always say, and yet I never can see the 
force of your position. People will talk about each 
other ; and even make censorious and disparaging 
remarks of those who are most perfect.” 

I am not so sure of that, husband. / never hear 
others remarked upon, that they d ) not deserve all 
that is said of them.” 

“ So you thiirk, Sarah. But they would have 

quite a different idea of themselves.” 

12 * 


138 


WHAT AVILL PEOPLE SAY? 


They would, like hundreds of others, over-esti- 
mate themselves, that is all/^ 

‘‘True, Sarah. And those who talk about us 
might say the same thing, if we found fault with 
what we considered the false position in which they 
placed us.^^ 

“ I should like to know who says any harm of 
us,’^ Mrs. Ashton quickly remarked, with indignant 
surprise. 

“Some of your best and dearest friends,^^ her 
husband replied, quietly. 

“ Who 

“Oh, as to that, I am as wise as you.^* 

“ Then why do you speak as you do V’ 

“ Because I am not disposed to think we are an 
exception to the general rule. When I hear every 
one else remarked upon, I can hardly suppose we 
are going to escape.’^ 

“ But it is the follies and foibles of others that are 
remarked upon.’^ 

“Of course. And our follies and foibles are 
thrown in with the rest.^^ 

“ How you do talk ! But, seriously, you are not 
going to leave this beautiful house, for a mean, little 
two-story affair?’' 

“1 should think it would be the most prudent 
thing we could do to get a smaller house. My bu- 
siness is hilling off, and I shall have as much as I 
can do to make both ends meet this year." 


WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY? 


139 


“ But you can "feasily make up the next season. 
Besides, if we should come down in our style of 
living, people would say that you were going behind- 
hand, and had been forced to adopt a system of 
retrenchment.^^ 

“Well, suppose they did! What harm would 
that do 

“ Do ! Why, harm enough 1 Besides subjecting 
your family to unpleasant remarks and slights, you 
would lose your business standing, and without a fair 
credit, a merchant, you know, has up-hill work/^ 

“ Your last remark is far the most sensible one 
you have made, Sarah, and has in it much weight. 
I see its force plainly, and am resolved to keep a 
good face upon things for a while longer.^^ 

“ I knew you would come into my way of think- 
ing,^^ said Mrs. Ashton, smiling triumphantly. 


CHAPTER 11. 

“ Mr. Punctual says be kind enough to send 
him a check for that,^' remarked a lad, as he came 
up to the desk where Mr. Ashton sat musing, pre- 
senting, at the same time, a bill for a quarter’s rent 
of his dwelling, amounting to two hundred and fifty 
dollars. 

“ Tell Mr. Punctual that I am a little short to- 
day, but will send him the check to-morrow 


140 


WHAT AVILL PEOPLE SAY? 


Yes, sir,^^ replied the lad, anS withdrew. 

Mr. Ashton then resumed his employment of as- 
certaining how near his resources for the day would 
come to meeting the several notes and balances of 
borrowed money that were due. 

Five thousand dollars to pay,^^ said he to him- 
self, musingly, and but five hundred in bank.’^ 

Mr. Elder says, please send him the three hun- 
dred dollars you borrowed of him last week,’^ said a 
porter from a large house up town, who had entered 
the counting-room unperceived. 

Mr. Ashton started, as if a blow had suddenly 
been struck upon the desk by his side. But he 
recovered himself in a moment, and said with a 
smile, 

“Very well, tell Mr. Elder that he shall have it 
by twelve.’^ 

The porter withdrew, and the merchant resumed 
his calculations. 

“ I am hard up at almost every place where I am 
in the habit of borrowing,^^ said he. “ Let me see. 
I wonder if I can’t venture on old Humphreys for 
five hundred dollars. Yes, I will try him. I know 
he has it, and he won’t refuse me. Well, that sum, 
with five hundred dollars in bank, make a thousand. 
Now, who shall I try next ? There is Martin & Co., 
Jones k Milford, Todd k Kimber, and Mallonee. I 
must raise the balance among them somehow.” 

This matter settled, Mr. Ashton started out on his 


/ 


WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY? 


141 


money-hunting expedition. His first efibrt was with 
old Humphreys, as he called him. 

Well, Mr. Ashton, how are you this morning V* 
said that individual, with a pleased smile, as the 
other entered his counting-room. Humphreys was 
a merchant of the old school. Into the dashing 
go-ahead’^ schemes of the times, he never entered. 
He had gotten rich in the old, cautious, straight- 
forward way ; and, in still pursuing his long adopt- 
ed business policy, was adding dollar to dollar, 
tlowly and surely. 

A pleasant day, this, Mr. Humphreys,^^ said 
“Vshton, in an assumed, lively, unconcerned tone. 

Pleasant indeed, Mr. Ashton ! Is there any 
•?ews stirring 

“ Nothing strange, I believe. How is business V* 

Oh, about as usual with me. How is it with 

you 

Kather dull. Money comes in slow these times. 
And, by the way, have you five hundred or a thou- 
sand dollars that you can spare for a few days 

I have a good deal more than that, Mr. Ashton, 
for which I have no present use. But whether I can 
loan it to you is another question. 

Humphreys was a plain-spoken, or rather an ec- 
centric man, as it was called, and Ashton knew this. 
He was not, therefore, at all surprised at the plain 
straight-forwardness of the answer. 

** Yes, that is the question, Mr. Humphreys. I 


142 


WHAT WILL PjiOPLE SAY? 


din short to-day, and you woula be doing me a favoui 
by making up the amount. 1 can easily hand it 
back in a day or two.^^ 

You own a carriage and a span of horses, do 
you not?’^ inquired old Humphreys. 

Yes,” the merchant replied, a little annoyed at 
the question. 

How much did they cost you 

I paid a thousand for the carriage, and eight 
hundred for the horses.^^ 

And you live in one of Millington’s beautiful 
houses, at a thousand dollars a year, I believe ?” 

‘^Yes.” 

Mr. Ashton; I don’t want to offend you. But 
I must speak plain. A man who keeps a carriage 
and horses worth eighteen hundred dollars, and pays 
a thousand a year for rent, never ought to borrow 
money to pay his notes. If your ready money is 
short, go home and sell your carriage and horses, 
and supply the deficiency. And if that won’t do, 
move into a house at three hundred dollars rent, and 
save seven hundred. That is sensible advice, and 
if you take it, it will do you more good than if I were 
to lend you five thousand dollars. I am a plain- 
spoken old man, Mr. Ashton, and you must not 
be offended.” 

If not seriously offended, certainly the money- 
hunter was pained and confused. He did not linger 
to reply; but, bowing low, hastily withdrew. 


WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY? 


143 


Thej^re hard run when they come to me, ha I 
ha I” said the old fellow, laughing to himself, as 
Ashton withdrew. They may ruin each other if 
they choose, but old Humphreys stands or falls by 
himself/^ 

Mr. Ashton returned to the counting-room, and 
took a brief pause to recover his spirits and self-pos- 
session. He then sallied out again. But by this 
time it was eleven o’clock, and at twelve he had 
promised to return Mr. Elder three hundred 
dollars. 

Any thing over to-day, Martin ?” said he, in a 
lively tone, as he entered the store of Martin & Co. 

Well, I don’t know, Ashton. Perhaps we can 
spare a little. Step back a moment, and I will 
see.” 

Mr. Ashton’s heart felt lighter. After looking 
over his bank account, Mr. Martin said — 

I’m really very sorry, Ashton, but we have only 
about fifty dollars in bank. I thought we had more. 
But here are four hundred in uncurrent funds, ave- 
raging about two per cent, discount. You can have 
that sum for a couple of weeks. Perhaps you can 
turn it to advantage.” 

That is pretty tough, but, if you can’t do any 
better for me, I suppose I must try it.” 

The four hundred dollars were counted out to him, 
and he passed his check for the amount, dated two 
weeks ahead. 


U4 


WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY? 


Plenty of money to-day, Milford asked Mr . 
Ashton, entering the counting-room of Jones & 
Milford. 

Plenty as blackberries in December/^ was the 
reply. 

“ I want five or six hundred to-day. Can’t you 
squeeze me out a part of it 

‘^Not a dollar. We are, ourselves, short.” 

‘‘ Then I need not tarry here long,” our borrower 
said, and hurried away. 

‘‘ Ashton is confoundedly hard run. Pm thinking,” 
remarked Milford to his partner. 

“ Yes. And Pm not at all sure that he is going 
to stand it long. The fact is, he is not a prudent 
business-man, and, besides that, makes almost too 
great a dash. Isn’t that his carriage passing ?” 

Yes. And Mrs. Ashton is in it^ dressed like a 
queen, while her husband is running about hunting 
up money to pay his notes.” 

Poor man ! His weak desire for an establish- 
ment and vain show will, I fear, ruin him at last.” 

In the mean time, the subject of these remarks 
had turned towards his own counting-room. Arrived 
there, he drew a check for three hundred dollars, 
ante-dated one day, and then proceeded with it to 
the store of Mr. Elder, who had sent for his account 
of borrowed money. 

Here’s a check dated to-morrow,”' said he. 
‘HTou can deposit it to-day.” 


WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY? 


145 


‘^Very well/^ replied Mr. Elder, ‘Uhat will 
answer.” 

glad of it, for I am short to-day. Good 
morning.” And Ashton hurried away to try some 
more of his business friends. By one o’clock, he 
had raised three thousand dollars. But half of it 
was in uncurrent funds. During the process, he 
had met with more than one rebuff, that touched him 
to the quick. 

And now what is to be done ?” he asked him- 
self despondingly. For about the space of five mi- 
nutes he sat musing in silence. At length he got up 
slowly and deliberately, and went to his desk. From 
this he took a large pocket-book, and selected busi- 
ness notes, having over four months to run, and less 
than six, to the amount of two thousand five hun- 
dred dollars. With these he again sallied out, and 
soon found himself at the premises of an individual 
known as a shaver. 

I want some monej’’ to-day. Keener ?” he said 
abruptly, as he entered. ‘‘There is the collateral,” 
throwing down a package of notes of hand. “ And 
let me have it quickly, for I have some borrowed 
money, besides notes, to pay, and must not keep my 
friends waiting.” 

“ How much do you want?” inquired the broker, 
slowly and carefully going over the notes, and ex- 
amining -the endorsements. 

“ Two thousand dollars.” 

VI.— 13 


1.46 


WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY? 


For how Jong ?'' 

Thirty days/^ 

I hardly think I can spare it. And, anyhow, 
this security is not all of it first-rate.^^ 

“You know that it is perfectly good. Keener 3 
and you know that you can get the money if you 
haven’t it by you. I am hard run to-day, and must 
have the amount named.” 

“You are hard run, then?” the broker remarked, 
looking Ashton keenly in the face. 

“Yes, I am. Keener. You have stood by me in 
several tight places, and you must not forsake me 
now.” 

“ Well, 1 don’t know,” resumed the broker, in a 
deliberate tone. “I can’t say that I am satisfied 
with some of these notes.” 

“ They are all as good as the bank, Keener.” 

“ If not better than most of the banks, I wouldn’t 
give much for them.” 

“ But I know them to be perfectly good. How- 
ever, if you can’t accommodate me, say so, and let 
me be moving.” 

“ Well, let me see. You want it very much ?” 

“ Indeed I do.” 

“ Yo accommodate you, then, I will let you have 
the ^wo thousand dollars for sixty.”. 

“ That is three per cent, a month !” 

“ I know it is. But consider that I am risking a 
good deal. The security is not all strong.” 


WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY? 


147 


“ It is perfectly good, Keener.” 

I can^t do better for you, Ashton. And I donH 
care about the operation, anyhow ?” 

Hand it over then,” said the merchant. The 
intimation ingeniously thrown in by the broker, that 
he was indifferent about the matter, decided him to 
accept the offer without further parley. 

All the preliminaries settled, Mr. Ashton pocketed 
his two thousand dollars, less sixty, and went back 
to his counting-room. He then assorted his un- 
current funds, amounting to about fifteen hundred 
dollars, on which he had to pay a discount of forty 
dollars, making his loss, on that day, in discounts, 
one hundred dollars. His borrowed money returned, 
and his notes lifted, the merchant turned homeward, 
as his dinner-hour had arrived. 


CHAPTER III. 

“ The fact is, Sarah, we must sell our carriage, 
and try to curtail a little,” said Mr. Ashton, after 
dinner. 

‘‘ Sell our carriage ? Impossible !” 

We could get along once very well without a 
carriage, and I think we must do so again.” 

But what will people say to see us coming 
down ? If we had never owned a carriage, I would 
not advise you to get one, seeing business is so dull, 


148 


WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY? 


as you say ; but it will never do to give it up now. 
People would say that we were going to the wall, 
and there would be enough to try and push us 
there, if that were once said. Oh, no, don’t think 
of it !” 

Silenced, but not convinced that it was right to 
continue his present style of living, Mr. Ashton re- 
turned to his store, and sat conning over plans and 
projects for raising money on the next day, when 
the entrance of some one disturbed his train of 
thought. 

Grood-day, Mr. Ashton,” said the individual, 
who proved to’ be his landlord. 

Good-day ! how do you do, Mr. Punctual ?” 
replied the merchant, with a feeling of uneasiness. 

You have put my bill off again,” said that 
personage, coming abruptly to the point, and now 
I have come for it myself. I like promptness in 
dealing, and am never satisfied with any thing else. 
When you have lived in my house for three months, 
my part of the contract is fulfilled ; then I look for 
you +0 fulfil yours. Do you understand?” 

Perfectly,” said Mr. Ashton, turning to his desk, 
and filling up a check for two hundred and fifty 
dollars. It is true that he had no money in bank, 
but then the check could not be presented until the 
next day, and that would give him a little time. 

The landlord received the check in silence, and, 
bowing low, departed. 


WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY? 


149 


In about half an hour after the landlord had 
disappeared, a bill came in for a set of harness, new 
linings and cushions for the carriage, &c., amount- 
ing to one hundred dollars. 

I cannot pay this just now,^’ Mr. Ashton said, 
with an air of impatience. 

It has already been standing four months,^’ re- 
plied the man. It is hardly fair, Mr. Ashton, to 
keep mechanics out of their money in this way; we 
earn it hard, and always want it.” 

^‘You need not be insolent about it,” said the 
merchant, half angrily. ‘‘ Come day after to-mor- 
row, and you shall have your money.” 

The mechanic turned away, muttering somewhat 
more loudly than he intended — “ People say you 
make ^most too great a show to be honest, and I 
believe they are right.” 

Mr. Ashton’s quick ears caught the words; he 
dropped his eyes to the floor, and sat in deep self- 
communion for many minutes, while a bright-red 
spot burned upon his cheek. It was, perhaps, half 
an hour before he resumed his investigation of the 
morrow’s monetary business. There was a calm 
self-possession in his manner as he did so, and an 
air of deep resolve about him that indicated the 
mastery of some weakness. 

At the usual hour he returned home. After tea, 
his wife remarked, with a smile, as if the subject 
had been broached by him in a momentary fit of 

IS'* 


150 


WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY? 


business perplexity — Well, husband, have you 
got over your strange idea about selling the car- 
riage 

“ No, Sarah,^^ he replied, in a serious tone. 

Notisense 1’^ 

^‘^But I am in earnest, Sarah. I find that we 
eannot support our present style of living with 
safety. 

Indeed, indeed, husband ! you are alarmea 
without cause.^' 

Indeed ! I am not, Sarah.^^ 

“ But hadn’t you better wait a while, and see if 
Dusiness won’t improve? I can’t bear the idea of it. 
And, then, what will people say ?” 

I don’t know, Sarah, what they would say; but 
I can tell you what they do say.” 

‘‘And what do they say?” inquired Mrs. Ashton, 
eagerly 

“ Why, they say that we make ’most too much 
show to be honest ! And, what is worse, they ar? 
half right.” 

Mrs. Ashton was thunderstruck, as they say; 
that is, she was so astonished and confounded that 
she knew not what to think or speak. At last she 
said, looking into her husband’s face, with her own 
pale and concerned in its expression — “ Surely you 
must be trifling with me !” 

“ No, Sarah, I am not. Of late, I have been so 
dosely run for money, to meet my business and 


WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY? 


151 


accommodation paper, which is unusually heavy 
about these times, that I have been forced to put 
off many bills that were due, and should have been 
paid. Among these was a bill from the carriage- 
maker, for the new and beautiful harness, carriage- 
linings, and cushions. He called to-day for the 
fourth or fifth time, and I had to put him off again. 
He grumbled at it, and, as he went away, muttered, 
loud enough for me to hear him — ^ People say that 
you make ^most too much show to be honest, and I 
believe them.^ 

This is too severe for me, Sarah, and I cannoi 
stand it. If I have weakly yielded to my own in- 
clinations and your desires, and indulged in a little 
display and extravagance, lam, nevertheless, honest j 
and while a shadow of such a suspicion as that in- 
dicated is resting over me, I can have no peace of 
mind.^' 

Mrs. Ashton listened with breathless interest 
while her husband was speaking; but, although he 
paused for some moments, she did not reply. 

•‘And now, Sarah,^’ he resumed, “ you know that ‘ 
I have considered you, and consulted you in all 
domestic arrangements. I still wish to do so; but 
I can no longer act as you wish, unless I am fully 
satisfied that to act thus is right. I think that we 
should sell our carriage, and move into a smaller 
house; and my reason for thinking so is founded 
upon my knowledge of the fact, that as business is, 


152 


WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY? 


and promises to be for some time to come, I cannot 
afford the expense to which they subject us/^ 

‘‘And people say we make too great a show to be 
honest ?” Mrs. Ashton remarked, in a tone of sur- 
prise, a little touched with indignation, as her hus- 
band ceased speaking. 

“ Yes, Sarah, they do.^^ 

“ Well, they shall say it no longer. They may 
say any thing but that ; but to question your ho- 
nesty is too much ! Sell the carriage, did you say? 
Yes, sell it to-morrow, and move into a smaller house 
next week. People say that we are not honest ! 
Oh, no, people mustn’t say that And a tear 
stood in Mrs. Ashton’s eye, as she drew her arm 
affectionately about her husband’s neck. 


CHAPTER IV. 

It was, perhaps, about a year after, that Mr. and 
Mrs. Ashton sat one evening before a cheerful grate, 
in a snug little house in a retired part of the city. 
Every thing around them was neat and comfortable, 
and even elegant, though not on the scale of magni- 
ficence that they had once indulged. As they were 
drawing up their chairs before the fire, after supper, 
Mr. Ashton remarked— “ This morning, Sarah, I 


WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY? 


153 


took up the last note I had out in the world. No 
man can now say that I owe him a dollar.’^ 

“You feel very comfortable then, of course/' his 
wife replied, smilingly. 

“ I do feel very comfortable ; much more than I 
did when I sported an elegant carriage, and lived in 
a style of splendour beyond my ability to support.” 

“ People can't say that we make too great a show 
to be honest,” Mrs. Ashton remarked, good-humour- 
edly. 

“That they cannot; and, if they did, it would 
make but little difference, for there would be no 
truth in the allegation. It is the truth that people 
say about us, that is of most importance.” 

“ So I felt when you explained to me your real 
condition, and I saw, too plainly, that there was 
room for the remark made.” 

“ I certainly was in a bad way, then. Every day 
I had to rack my brains for the means of lifting my 
notes and paying my borrowed money; and when 
night came, I was sick and dispirited, and unfit to 
enjoy an hour’s pleasant social intercourse. If I 
dreamed, it was of money, and notes, and ruin. 
Fifty times it has occurred that there has been but 
twenty minutes, or ten dollars, between me and 
bankruptcy; and yet I was doing a very fair busi- 
ness. The fortunate sale which I made of the car- 
riage gave me fifteen hundred dollars in cash, which 
helped me a good deal ; it was so much money t\ai 


154 WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY? 

did not have to he returned. In a short time, we got 
into this little snug affair of a house, at one-fourth 
the rent we had been paying, and I found quarter- 
bills of sixty-two and a half dollars much more easily 
paid than those of two hundred and fifty dollars; 
and, besides this, our family expenses have been, 
quarterly, five hundred dollars less/' 

Impossible, Mr. Ashton!” 

It is a fact, for I have kept, regularly, an account 
in my business, of all moneys paid out for other than 
business purposes. Our carriage-driver was a tax 
of three hundred dollars a year. Feed for two and 
sometimes three horses, extra servant-hire about a 
large house, and extra waste for extra servants, and 
the thousand expenses which such an establishment 
involves, swell up into no unimportant sum.” 

“And all this was not so much for the comfort 
it gave as to provide for tlie question — What 
will people say?'* remarked Mrs. Ashton, smiling. 
“ How vain and foolish I was 1” she added, more 
gravely. 

“ All these things,” resumed Mr. Ashton, “ made 
a heavy aggregate. Over three thousand dollars, in 
the last year, saved from expenses, and obtained in 
the sale of horses and carriage, helped my business 
wonderfully. And besides that, when I had once 
commenced, from a full conviction of its necessity, 
a system of reform and economy, I carried it out in 
my store. I was more prudent and cautious in 


WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY? 


155 


buying and selling, reduced my business more to a 
system, and made my calculations to rely less upon 
borrowing and more upon business returns. Gra- 
dually, I succeeded in reducing all my transactions 
to a safe and legitimate line, and now I feel the 
happy result of good resolutions, followed by a rigid 
determination to carry them out. People may talk 
as much as they please now j I know that no one 
can say I owe him a dollar.” 

^‘And you are so much happier than you were, 
dear husband ! and I am so much happier. To do 
right and then rest satisfied, I feel is much better 
than to be anxious that others may admire or speak 
well of us. A single year’s experience has taught 
me a great deal.” 

“ We are both gainers, then,” Mr. Ashton replied; 

that is, we are better and wiser. May we never 
forget the lesson we have learned, that the true 
&eurces of happiness lie within ourselves.” 


IT’S ONLY A DOLLAR. 


It’s only a dollar,” said Mr. Jones, drawing the 
com from his pocket, and throwing it upon the 
counter before which he was standing. 

And cheap enough at that,” remarked the 
florist, sliding the dollar into his drawer. ^‘It’s one 
of the finest roses we have.” 

It certainly is very beautiful,” said Mr. Jones, 
as he lifted the flower and departed. 

Oh, what a beautiful rose !” exclaimed Mrs. 
Jones, as her husband came in. “ Where did you 
get it !” 

“ I bought it from ,” was the reply. 

“ For how much ?” 

Only a dollar.” 

That was cheap.” 

Yes, indeed. Cheap enough.” 

The rose, after receiving its meed of admiration, 
was placed among a collection of choice plants, and 
then, tea being announced, the young couple, for they 
had only been married about six months, sat down 
to partake of their quiet evening repast. 

156 


IT'S ONLY A DOLLAR. 


15i 


Mr. Jones was clerk in a banking institution in 

the city of , with a comfortable salary of twelve 

hundred dollars a year. He possessed the confidence 
of the oflScers of the bank as well as of the board of 
directors, and was generally esteemed by all who 
knew him. But he had a too common defect of 
character — his desires were not only in advance of 
his income, but he too frequently thought of little 
beyond their gratification. True, these desires were 
not of a kind usually denominated extravagant. 
He did not think of buying a carriage, nor even a 
fast-trotting horse, nor of filling his house with 
costly and elegant furniture. Such acts of impru- 
dence were too palpably wrong to tempt him to their 
indulgence. His restless desires were like the con- 
tinual dropping’’ which wears away even the hardest 
substances. Small in their single demands, but im- 
portant in the aggregate of their eflfects. The same 
disposition was manifested by his wife. Thus there 
was no check to the evil. 

While they sat at the tea-table, on the evening 
just alluded to, Mrs. Jones said — 

<^How I should like to go to the concert to- 
night !” 

Would you, Julia?” 

Indeed T would. I am so fond of music.” 

So am I. But can we afford to go ?” 

^^Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Jones. The tickets are 
only a dollar apiece !” 

VI.— 14 


158 


it’s only a. dollar. 


True. And it would be strange if we could not 
afford a couple of dollars now and then ! Well, 
suppose you get ready as soon as tea is over, and 
we will go.” 

I shall be so delighted !” the young wife re- 
marked, as she took the arm of her husband, on 
leaving their neat and comfortable dwelling, to pro- 
ceed to the concert room. 

And she was delighted, for there was a rare com- 
bination of musical talent, and she had a taste that 
could appreciate the excellences of the different 
performers. 

On the next morning, as they sat at breakfast, 
Mr. Jones said — 

And so you were very much pleased last night, 
Julia ?” 

Pleased is too tame a word, Henry. I was de- 
lighted ! It was a rich performance throughout.” 

‘^So was I. A cheap gratification at two dol- 
lars.” 

Don’t speak of the money, Henry. Money 
should not be thought of in connection with it. 
What are two paltry dollars, in comparison with such 
a feast of the soul ? Can the most exquisite tones 
of music be estimated by the dollar’s worth ? 
No — no.” 

I must confess that I feel as you do, Julia,” the 
husband replied ; and then each sat silent for a few 
moments, busy with newly arising thoughts. 


IT S ONL'S A DOLLAR. 


159 


I saw a pair of most beautiful vases in ^s 

window, yesterday, as I was passing his store,’^ said 
Mrs. Jones, looking into her husband’s face. “ Oh, 
they were really exquisite V* 

Did you ask the price 

^‘No. But I wish, as you pass this morning, that 
you would step in and see what they will cost. I 
should like to have them very much.’’ 

Certainly, and if the price is not too high, I 
will purchase them for you.” 

Oh, I should be so delighted to have them !” 

Mr. Jones, on his way to the banking-house, 
stepped into the china-store to look at the vases. 
He knew them by a description which his wife had 
given him. They were gilt and painted china, and 
were really beautiful, as she had said. 

What do you ask for these vases?” he inquired, 
after looking at them for a few moments. 

Only five dollars,” was the reply. 

Five dollars — five dollars. That is not dear.” 

Dear? no indeed ! It is scarcely half what they 
are really worth.” 

“ But I hardly think that I can afford to give so 
much for a pair of vases that are of no real use,” 
said Mr. Jones, musingly. 

“The price is only five dollars, Mr. Jones, 
which is not going to make or break any 
man.” 

“No, that is very true. It’s only five dollars 


160 


it’s only a dollar. 


Well; you might as well send them home, for my 
wife has set her heart on them.’^ 

And so saying, Mr. Jones took out his pocket- 
book, and selected a five-dollar bill, which was paid 
over for the vases. 

“ How kind you are,” said his wife, as he came 
in to dinner, to buy me those beautiful vases I 
How rich, and, at the same time, how neat they 
are !” 

They are indeed beautiful. When I saw them, 
I could not resist the temptation.” 

What did they cost ?” 

Only five dollars.” 

That was cheap.” 

Cheap enough. They could not have been 
bought a year ago for less than ten dollars.” 

I have been making some purchases, also,” Mrs. 
Jones remarked, after they had admired the vases 
for a few minutes. 

Ah, indeed ! Well — what have you bought?” 

‘‘Some woman’s finery of course. I have been 
out shopping, and could not resist the temptation to 
buy several articles that I did not expect to pur- 
chase. See here.” 

And Mrs. Jones referred to a small pile of dry- 
goods that was lying on one of the pier-tables. 

“ Is not that a beautiful piece of linen cambric ? 
I did not just want it now, but it was a remnant, 
and the storekeeper asked only a dollar for it. I 


it’s only a dollar. 


16 


shall want it. And then see this elegant little 
handkerchief. A’n’t it a beauty ? It was only a 
dollar ” 

It is certainly very pretty.” 

And I have bought you, besides,” continued the 
happy wife, three of the finest bandannas I have 
ever seen. A’n’t they lovely ?” displaying her 
purchases. 

^‘They are, indeed, Julia. Though I am not 
exactly in want of them, for I have about a dozen 
or so now.” 

“ Yes, hut you will want them.” 

So I will.” 

And then they were so cheap. Only a dollar 
and a quarter apiece. Why, I paid for those last 
ones of yours, a dollar and a half, and they were 
not near so good.” 

Several other articles were displayed ; this costing 
only half a dollar, that only a dollar, and the other 
only two dollars — amounting in all to ten or twelve 
dollars. And yet there was not one of them that 
was really needed. But then they cost but little, 
and were cheap at the prices paid. 

Oh, Harry ! That is kind of you,” said Mrs. 
Jones, on the evening of the next day, as her hus- 
band presented her with an elegant gold-mounted 
card-case. ‘‘I just wanted one like this. It is 
handsomer a great deal than Mrs. Perry’s, and she 
thought her’s a beauty.” 


14 * 


162 


it’s only a dollar. 


You think it very pretty, do you?” 

Oh, yes. How kind you are, to think of nae so 
often. How much did you pay for it ?” 

Only five dollars.” 

‘^That was cheap. Mrs. Perry’s cost, she told 
me, seven, and 1 would much rather have mine.” 

Yes, I think it cheap enough.” 

There is. another thing that I want, dear, and I 
wish you would get it for me.” 

What is that, Julia?” 

‘‘ A gold pencil-case. Will you buy me one ?” 

Certainly.” 

Five dollars were spent on the next day for a 
gold pencil-case. But it was only five dollars, and 
not of much consideration. 

“ I saw one of the most beautiful japonicas to- 
day, that I ever laid my eyes on,” said Mrs. Jones, 
on the same evening, after her husband had come 
home. 

Ah, where did you see it ?” 

In the florist’s window, in street.” 

Bid you ask the price ?” 

“ No. But I wish you would go to-morrow, and 
it* the price is not too extravagant, buy it for me.” 

Certainly. We shall soon have a rare collec- 
tion.” 

That we will. And i am so fond of flowers !” 

' the next day, Mr. Jones called to see about 
ponica. 


it’s only a dollar. 


163 


‘^What is the price he asked. 

“ Three dc?]ars.” 

Isn’t; Ibat high ?” 

Oh, no. They bring four and five sometimes. 
I ndeed, I ought to have four for this one.” 

Mr. Jones paused for a moment or two, and then 
said mentally. 

It’s beautiful ; and it’s only three^l^llars — that 
can’t break me.” 

‘‘ You may send it home, Mr. ,” speaking 

aloud. 

Very well, Mr. Jones; it shall be sent home 
immediately.” 

The three dollars were paid, and Mr. Jones pro- 
ceeded to the bank. 

The aggregate of their expenditures for articles 
not really needed, on that and the four preceding 
days, was thirty-six dollars ! Is it any wonder, then, 
that under such a system, they found themselves, at 
the end of the first year of their marriage, over 
three hundred dollars in debt? The only won- 
der is that they were not still further involved. 
And they would have been, had not Mr. Jones pos- 
sessed about two hundred dollars above what was 
necessary to furnish their house, when they were 
married. 

Really said Mr. J ones, when he became fully 
convinced of the fact that he owed the sum above 
indicated, I cannot understand this.” 


164 


it’s only a dollar. 


There must be some mistake, certainly,” his 
wife replied. 

So it would seem. But I cannot discover where 
it lies. Our income is twelve hundred dollars a 
year, and I had two hundred dollars over, when we 
were married. Surely, we cannot have spent seven- 
teen hundred dollars in twelve months.” 

^^Impossil^ !” responded Mrs. Jones. 

It does seem impossible, Julia. But where is 
it gone ? — for it has certainly gone somewhere.” 

I am sure I cannot tell. We have not lived 
extravagantly, that is certain. Our rent is only 
two hundred dollars. We keep but one servant. It 
is all a mystery to me.” 

And one just as profound to me,” replied Mr. 
Jones. 

^^Is there no way by which we can reduce our 
expenses ?” Mr. J ones remarked, after a silence of 
some minutes, which was to both a troubled silence. 

If there is, I for one, wish to adopt it ; for, of 
aJl things, I have a horror of being in debt.” 

Beally, Julia, I don’t see where this reduction 
is going to take place. We pay less for our house 
than is paid by tv/o clerks in bank, that I know, 
who get but one thousand dollars a year. We keep 
but one servant, and they keep two, and each has, 
besides, three children to provide for, and we have 
none.” 

In vain .did Mr. and Mrs. Jones search for the 


it's only a dollar. 


16.0 


cause of this strange condition of things. But an 
event occurred that relieved their minds from the 
trouble that disturbed them. One of the tellers 
died, and Mr. Jones was advanced to his place, and 
his salary increased to fifteen hundred dollars. 

have good news to tell you, Julia," said he, 
with a brighter countenance than he had worn for 
several weeks. 

Indeed ! What is it 

I have been promoted to the place held by Mr. 
Spencer." 

Oh, I am glad of that ! And your salary" — 

Is fifteen hundred dollars." 

How providential this increase is !" said the 
wife. “I have been so troubled about being in 
debt, but now we will soon find all straight again." 

Yes. All will be well now." 

But not having discovered the true cause of em- 
barrassment, which remained still operative, the 
eifect followed as a matter of course. 

On the evening of the day after, while walking 
out with his wife, Mr. Jones stepped into a jeweller’s 
shop, actuated by no other motive than an idle 
curiosity to look over the elegant and tasteful articles 
there displayed. 

Ah, Mr. JoriBS ! how do you do ? Good evening, 
Mrs. Jones ! Pleasant evening, ma’am ! Really, 
Mr. Jones, I must congratulate you ! I see that you 
have been appointed to fill Mr. Spencer’s place " 


166 


it’s only a dollar. 


Thus ran on the jeweller, thinking meantime of 
his goods, and wondering if he should make a sale 
to the new bank-teller. 

^^You have some fine goods here, Mr. Darling.” 
And Mr. Jones took a survey of the cases and 
shelves, all arrayed in jewels, plate, and articles of 
rich and costly workmanship. 

Yes, we have some very beautiful goods.” 

Have you any of the new style of cameos ?” 
M]rs. Jon^s asked. 

Oh, yes, ma’am. We received some to-day that 
really surpass any thing I have before seen.” 

And as Mr. Darling said this, he took from his 
case, one after the other, some dozen cameos of the 
latest styles and laid them before the delighted eyes 
of Mrs. Jones. 

They are very beautiful indeed ! What is the 
price of this one ?” 

“ Ten dollars, ma’am.” 

really should like to have one,” said Mrs. 

Jones. 

** Well, suppose you suit yourself,” was the prompt 
reply of the husband. 

“ The price is only ten dollars,” remarked the 
jeweller, in a tone half expressing contempt at the 
idea of so small a sum. 

Select one, Julia, if you can please yourself.” 

Mrs. Jones did not require a second invitation. 
The breastpin was chosen, and ten dollars trans» 


it’s only a dollar. 


167 


ferred from the pocket-book of her husband to the 
drawer of Mr. Darling. 

DonH you want something in this line V* the 
jeweller now said — presenting a very pretty ladies^ 
watch. 

Isn’t that a dear little watch !” ejaculated Mrs. 
J ones, her eyes sparkling with delight, as she took 
the article named in her hand, and examined it 
carefully. I must really have one, Henry, as soon 
as you can afford it.” 

Oh, he can afford it well enough,” replied Mr. 
Darling, with a winning smile. 

I am not so certain,” the husband said musingly. 

How much do you ask for it ?” 

^^Only a hundred dollars.” 

“ I cannot spare a hundred dollars now.” 

Oh, never mind that. If you want the watch, 
I shall not ask for the money for the next five or six 
months.” 

Then you must buy it for me, Henry.” 

Well, if I must, I suppose I must.” 

Of course you will want a handsome gold chain 
and swivel,” the jeweller now said. 

Why, yes. I suppose I ought to have a chain,” 
was the reply of Mrs. Jones, taking in her hand a 
gold chain which Mr. Darling had already produced 

This is very fine,” she remarked, on examining it 

Yes, it is an elegant piece of chain.” 

How much will one cost?” 


168 


it’s only a dollar. 


Only forty dollars. I can add that to the bill. 
The money is of no consequence to me now.” 

Of course the gold chain accompanied the watch 
Before the young couple left the store of Mr. Dar 
ling, their bill was over two hundred dollars. A 
pair of fruit-baskets, with several other articles, were 
added to their purchases, and then they returned 
home, quite delighted with themselves and all the 
world. 

On the next day, three bills were presented to Mr 
Jones, amounting, in all, to two hundred dollars, and 
the payment asked as an especial favour. 

‘‘You shall have the amount of your bill in three 
or four days,” was the reply of Jones to each, with- 
out there being in his mind any distinct idea as to 
the manner in which payment was to be made. 
Three or four days rolled round very quickly, and 
the creditors came with the usual promptness of such 
individuals, and again asked for their money. The 
amounts were promptly paid. Having now charge 
of the money-drawer, it was the easiest thing in the 
world — so it occurred to him, after considering the 
difficulty in which he was placed — to use' two hun- 
dred dollars, and put in its place a ticket with the 
words, cash^ $200,” to be withdrawn and the 
money replaced when his quarter’s salary should fall 
due. This operation once begun, it came very 
natural to continue it, to meet other demands for 
money. 


it’s only a dollar 


169 


The periodical time for counting the cash by the 
proper offic*ers came on the very day that Jones’s 
quarter’s salary fell due. He owed the drawer three 
hundred and seventy-three dollars; or, within two 
dollars of the amount due him for the previous 
({uarter. The ticket was taken from the drawer and 
the money restored. All came out right when the 
cash was counted, and then another quarter was 
commenced. But sundry unnecessary purchases, on 
the It’s only a dollar” principle, made during the 
previous three months, added to the ordinary house- 
hold expenses, had caused a number of little bills 
to accumulate, to pay which a resort was again made 
to the money-drawer. Another three months rolled 
quickly around, and the cash was again to be 
counted. On referring to his memorandum of 
money used, he found that it bore this disturbing 
evidence — ^^Due cash, $500.” There would be a 
deficiency of more than one hundred dollars, after 
the amount of his salary had been replaced in the 
drawer — and should this appear, on counting the 
cash, the consequence would be the inevitable loss 
of his situation; besides, the disgrace that would 
attach to his character. 

Henry Jones slept but little during the night pre- 
vious to the day on which the cash was to be 
counted. He was in a dangerous position, and he 
felt it most sensibly. There was but one way to 
save himself that he could think of, and that was to 

VI.— 16 


170 


it’s only a dollar. 


borrow one hundred and twenty -five dollars, with 
which to make the cash balance, and return it again 
after the counting process should have been gone 
through. But he felt a great reluctance to ask any 
one to loan him money. He was not in business, 
and received a salary alPsufficient to support his 
family. There was, therefore, no good reason why 
he should want to borrow money, and he felt 
that for him to ask the favour would be a ground 
of suspicion against him that all was not fair. 
Still, no other plan suggested itself, except one im- 
mediately dismissed from his mind — which was to 
pledge his wife’s gold watch and his own for a few 
days. Julia knew nothing of his difficulty, and he 
shrank from the thought of making her acquainted 
with it. 

On the next morning, after breakfast, Jones called 
upon a friend in business, and said — 

“ Martin, I want a hundred and twenty-five dol- 
lars until to-morrow. 1 have a bill to pay, and my 
quarter’s salary is not due until then — and the 
person to whom I owe has a note to pay and wants 
the money badly. Can you do me the favour 1 
need ?” 

^‘Certainly — certainly,” responded Mr. Martin, 
turning to his desk and filling up a check for the 
desired amount. 

Jones felt as if a mountain had been removed 
from his shoulder, ar he left his friend’s store with 


it's only a dollar. 


17 ] 


the check in his hand. The falsehood he had ut- 
tered so deliberately did not cost him a thought. 
The regular periodical business of counting the cash 
took place, and all was found to be right. 

On the next day, a small slip of paper was laid 
in his drawer, bearing the memorandum — Due cash. 
$500.’^ With this sum, he paid his jeweller’s bill, 
which had accumulated during the six months to 
the round sum of three hundred dollars. One hun- 
dred and twenty-five were paid to Mr. Martin, which 
left him but seventy-five dollars out of the five 
hundred. This was, of course, soon frittered 
away. 

You look a little pale, Mr. Jones,” said a horse- 
dealer to him one day, about a month after this 
second ordeal. I am afraid you confine yourself 
too much.” 

“ Perhaps I do.” 

You should take a good deal of exercise, Mr. 
Jones.” 

I know that. And I do walk for an hour every 
morning.” 

^‘That is no kind of exercise! You ought to 
ride on horseback, Mr. .Tones. There is nothing 
like it for you men who are so closely confined in 
banks and stores.” 

“ I have no doubt but that I should feel greatly 
the benefit of riding for an hour or two each day.” 

That you would, Mr. Jones ! It would make 


172 


it’s only a dollar. 


you feel like a new man ; and would certainly add 
ten years to your life.” 

I believe I must try it, at least,” said Mr. Jones, 
musingly. I feel that I need healthful exercise 
in the open air very much.” 

have a very spirited animal, that I think 
would just suit you,” remarked the horse-dealer. 

Suppose you come round in the morning and give 
him a trial. I am sure you will be delighted with 
him.” 

Perhaps I will,” said Mr. Jones. 

In the morning, before breakfast, sure enough, 
he was at the stables of the horse-dealer, and was 
soon mounted upon a really noble animal. He was 
so delighted with his ride, and so pleased with the 
horse, that a desire to possess him at once sprang 
up in his mind. 

What do you ask for this horse ?” he inquired, 
on dismounting at the stables. 

“ Only a hundred and fifty dollars.” 

He is certainly worth that sura.” 

“That he is. Why it’s almost giving him 
away.” 

“ It I felt able, I should really be tempted to buy 
him.” 

“ Able ! I know fifty men, who, if they were as 
able as you, would each own his horse before night. 
There is Gardner, whose salary is only one thousand 
dollars a year He keeps a horse, and a beautiful 


ir’s ONLY A DOLLAR. 


173 


creature it is, too. Don’t talk about being able, 
Mr. J ones ! And then just think what a benefit it 
would be to your health.” 

The tempter prevailed, and the weak young man 
resorted to the bank funds again. His memorandum 
was changed from ‘‘ five hundred dollars due cash” 
— to six hundred and fifty dollars. 

I have bought me a horse, Julia,” said he, after 
he had completed the purchase. 

. Have you ? Well,, do you know what must 
come next ?” ^ 

^^No.” 

I can tell you then.” 

Speak out.” 

You will have to buy me a horse, too. I have 
no idea of your riding out alone every morning, and, 
perhaps, every evening.” 

am sure I should like your company very 
much, Julia. I didn’t know that you were fond of 
riding.” 

‘‘ But I am — passionately fond of it.” 

Seventy -five dollars were paid for a horse for Mrs. 
Jones. And now, every morning, and almost every 
evening, this thoughtless and imprudent couple might 
be seen dashing out into the. country on their own 
horses. 

But time passed steadily onward, and soon brought 
around the next examination-day. As it drew near, 
Mr. Jones began to feel a nervous dreai of its ap- 


174 


it’8 only a dollar. 


proacii, tor the ticket in the drawer bore the ominoua 
words — Due drawer y $1000/' 

It now became necessary to enter upon some re- 
gular system of borrowing, and to have it so arranged 
as to prevent the possibility of a failure. 

Will you have two hundred dollars to spare day 
after to-morrow V* he asked of his friend Martin. 

Yes, and double the amount, if you want it." 

“Thank you; but I don’t care about more than 
two hundred ; and you can have it again in a day 
or two." 

Two other friends were called upon, in like man- 
ner, and from each a like amount was promised, all 
of which he received in due time and placed among 
the funds of the bank, to make his account good. 

But it is needless to trace the course of Henry 
J ones step by step. For full five years he continued 
this system, unsuspected by any one. At the end 
of this time, the memorandum, which, to prevent 
accident, was carried in his pocket-book, read thus; 

Due cash, $5650." And yet, during all this time, 
the cash of the institution was regularly counted 
every three months ; and on each occasion the defi- 
ciency was borrowed from at least twenty difierent 
persons, not one of whom harboured the least sus- 
picion of the affable and seemingly light-hearted 
teller. 

But Henry Jones was far from being happy; he 
felt that the sword hung over his head, suspended 


it’s only a dollar. 


175 


by a single hair, and liable to fall by the agitation 
of a breath. Yet, so strange was the infatuation 
into which he had suffered himself to fall, that, in- 
stead of endeavouring to come back and live below 
his income, he was increasing his expenses every 
year. From the “ IFs only a dollar” principle of 
action, both he and his wife, now the mother of two 
sweet babes, had risen into the It’s only a hun- 
dred dollars” principle, and were speeding onward 
to their ruin with daily-increasing velocity. But 
nothing of the true condition of affairs did Mrs. 
Jones know. She vainly imagined that fifteen hun- 
dred dollars a year were sufficient to supply all the 
extravagances, for persons of their station in life, 
into which they entered so thoughtlessly. Among 
other acts of folly, they had given up the neat and 
comfortable dwelling at two hundred dollars a year, 
and now occupied an elegant house at five hundred 
dollars, attached ‘ to which was a small hot-house 
filled with a most choice collection of plants, many 
of which were rare and costly exotics. They alsc 
had a carriage of their own, and a boy, of course, to 
attend to the horses. 

But with all these appendages of happiness, as 
was before said, Mr. J ones was far from being happy 
How could he be? He was in the charmed circle 
of the serpent’s eye, and possessed- no internal power 
of breaking the spell and rushing away from the 
threatened danger; but still, over all the anxiety 


I7b 


it’s only a dollar. 


and fear within, he drew a veil, and assumed, as fa> 
as possible, both at home and abroad, an exterior 
of apparent cheerfulness. 

About this time began the commercial embarrass 
ments that were prolonged for so many years. 
Money became scarcer and scarcer, and it was with 
the utmost difficulty that Mr. Jones could obtain the 
required sum, even for a single day, to make good 
his account. 

“ I must have four hundred dollars to-morrow,” 
said he, on one of the.ie periodical occasions, step- 
ping into the store of a friend. 

“ Most gladly would I accommodate you, Mr. 
Jones, but to-morrow I have two thousand dollars 
to pay, and I have not yet received the first dollar. 
How 1 am to get through. Heaven only knows.” 

There was that in the earnest, even anxious tone 
of the merchant, that left no room for Mr. Jones to 
urge his suit. He turned away from the store with 
a feeling of faintness. 

How much can you spare me to-morrow ?” he 
asked of another business-man, who had always, 
heretofore, accommodated him with the utmost 
cheerfulness. 

Not one dollar, Jones, and I am sorry for it. I 
am in the tightest place that I have known for the 
last ten years. I have heavy payments to make 
to-morrow, and no resources.” 

I am really sorry for it,” Mr. Jones replied ; 


it’s only a dollar. 


177 


and in spite of his effort to seem in some degree un* 
concerned about not receiving the money for which 
he had asked, the merchant could not help perceiv- 
ing that his countenance fell and assumed a very 
troubled aspect. 

So am I ; but I must meet the difficulty like a 
man, and do my best to overcome it.’^ 

“ Can you let me have a few hundred dollars to- 
morrow?'^ Mr. Jones next asked of a friend who 
had never hesitated to loan him any sum that he 
wanted.'' 

Indeed, Mr. Jones, I cannot. These are dread 
ful hard times. And I am sure that I cannot tell 
how I shall get through to-morrow. But, in a few 
days, you can have as much as you want." 

Thus, wherever the teller went, he found the 
same complaint of scarci^ and want of money. 
Not over one thousand dollars were tendered him, 
and that sum would be of no use, for it would re- 
quire nearly six thousand to make good his account. 

‘‘ What must I do ?" was a question more easily 
asked than answered. And it was asked over and 
over again, with a vain looking for some glimmering 
of light in the distance. But all was darkness and 
uncertainty, with a distinct knowledge that destruc- 
tion lurked in his path. 

The morrow at length came, after a night such 
as no honest, or even dishonest man, could wish to 
pass — a night of wakefulness and fearful forebodings 


178 


it’s only a dollar. 


Sweetly by his side slept his unconscious wife, and 
his still happier and innocent children. How his 
heart ached for them as he thought of the disgrace 
that would attach to his name, if a discovery of his 
error were made ; of the change in all of his ex- 
ternal circumstances that must be the inevitable 
consequence. 

The hour for opening the bank at length came ; 
and Mr. Jones was at his post, with the same cheer- 
ful air and kind manner that had gained for him 
the respect and regard of both the ofl&cers and cus- 
tomers of the institution. And yet, with all this 
assumed exterior, there was a terrible feeling within, 
for there had occurred to his mind no device by 
which he could put off the evil day. Once the 
thought occurred to him to state openly and fully 
his case to the committee of examination, before the 
process of counting the cash should be entered upon. 
But this was instantly rejected, with the mental 
ejaculation — 

It cannot — it must not be known I” 

All through the day, while his hands were busy 
in receiving and paying out money, his mind was 
intent on devising some plan of relief from the 
dreadful dilemma into wdiich he had fallen. Once 
a gleam of hope shot suddenly across his mind, but 
it quickly faded away, and left the darkness still 
more gloomy and intense. Like fhe darkness of 
Egypt — i. couh1 be felt. That hope came thus. A 


rr’s ONLY A DOLLAR. 


171 ) 


check for six thousand dollars was presented, and 
he paid out, in mistake, six hundred. The lad who 
olfered the check, rolled up the money without 
counting it, and glided quickly from the bank. As 
the teller was dropping the check into one of the 
compartments of his money-drawer, his eye detected 
the error. His recollection of paying but six hun- 
dred dollars was clear and distinct. 

Now I am safe I” was the sudden inward ex- 
clamation, while a thrill of joy ran through every 
nerve and fibre of his body. 

“ That would be wilful and premeditated dis- 
honesty,^^ a voice seemed to whisper in his ear. 

But I can make it good hereafter, in a way that 
need involve no disclosure. And the firm is rich 
and will not be put to inconvenience in conse- 
quence.^^ 

Don’t do it,” urged the opposing, and better 
spirit within him. 

But I shall be ruined if I do not.” 

And ruined tenfold if you do,” was the internal 
earnest objection. 

“ What shall I do !” the poor man uttered almost 
audibly. And then started, lest his words had passed 
‘o the ear of some one standing by. 

Act honestly as far as you can, and await the 
result of your culpable folly,” said the inward 
whisper. 

You have made a mistake, sir,” said the prin- 


180 


it’s only a doll All. 


;iipal of the firm whose check of six thousand dol- 
lars had been paid with six hundred, coming up to 
the counter, while the struggle in the young naan’s 
mind was undecided. That was the trying moment, 
and the decision had to be made instantly. The 
struggle was, as it had of necessity to be, brief. 

I discovered the mistake, sir, as soon as your 
lad left,” the teller replied with a smile, as he 
counted out the balance of the check. 

I am greatly obliged to you, sir,” said the mer- 
chant, as he received the money. ^^Some tellers 
correct no mistakes.” 

“llight is right,” responded Mr. Jones mecha- 
nically, while his own voice sounded to his ear hollow 
and despairing. 

The merchant bowed apd left the counter, and 
hope, that had glimmered for a moment with a lurid 
light, faded away into darkness. 

Steadily the hours rolled away, and at last the 
clock struck three, and the doors of the bank were 
closed. The committee were already in waiting to 
make their periodical examination. All that re- 
mained was for Mr. Jones to enter up his checks and 
notes, strike his balance, and present his account 
As he proceeded to do this, he seemed to be reeling 
about instead of standing still, and had it not been 
for the mechanical habit that he had acquired, it 
would have been impossible for him to have pro- 
ceeded with any degree of correctness. 


it’s only a dollar. 


181 


He had not proceeded far in the labour before 
hii eye rested upon tlie six thousand dollar check. 

“ This might have saved me/’ he murmured, 
pausing in his work. 

And it shall save me !” he added with inward 
vehemence. It shall save me I” 

His balance was at length struck, and the periods 
cal counting took place. All appeared right, and 
the committee separated. 

Mr. Jones,” said the cashier to the teller, after 
the president and the two directors, who had formed, 
with the cashier, the committee, had withdrawn. 
“ There seei^s to be a little error here/’ laying his. 
hand upon the entries of the day. 

The heart of Mr. Jones gave a strong bound, and 
then its motion sank into low and tremulous pulsa- 
tions, while his face grew instantly pale. 

‘‘ Where, sir ?” he asked, in a low tone, scarcely 
above a whisper. 

Here,” said the cashier, laying his finger first 
upon the charge of a check for $6000 — and then 
upon a similar charge, in another part of the day’s 
operations — “ Melwyn’s check appears to be charged 
twice, for I only observed, in running my eye over 
the checks, but one drawn by them.” And the 
cashier looked Jones steadily in the face. The eyes 
of the latter fell under the searching expression ; 
and as they did so, his face grew deadly pale, for 
he felt conscious that his defalcation would 

VI —IS 


182 


ir’s ONLY A DOLLAR. 


come to light. A brief pause followed, when the 
cashier said, in a tone that had something of kind- 
ness in it — 

“ Come into my room, in a few minutes, Mr. 
Joues,’^ and then, himself retired to the place he 
had indicated. 

Thither he was soon followed by the teller. 

Sit down, Mr. Jones,’\the cashier said. 

And the teller sat down. But the very chair in 
which he seated himself seemed as if on fire. 

I am afraid, Mr. Jones, that all is not right,” 
the cashier began, “ and I am exceedingly pained to 
find myself obliged to express such a thought.’^ 

There was something of kindness and concern in 
the tones of the cashier’s voice, and as the heart 
of the latter melted down, a gleam of hope seemed 
to glance before him. 

“ All is not right, sir !” ho said, with one appeal- 
ing glance, and covering his face with his hands, 
gave way to tears. 

To this succeeded a full confession, by the teller, 
of his difficulties, and the nature and extent of his 
defalcation. 

“ But how is it possible, Mr. Jones, that you could 
become so embarrassed the cashier asked. 

“ I can hardly answer that question to myself,” 
the teller replied — “ I have not gambled, nor bought 
lottery tickets. All has. gone in the maintenance 
of my family.” 


it’s only a dollar. 


183 


Then you must have lived very extravagantly, 
Mr. Jones 3 for, with a larger family than yours, my 
expenses are not over eighteen hundred dollars a 
year.” 

believe I have, sir — and there, no doubt, is 
the secret of my embarrassment. I never intended 
to wrong the bank. But I was thoughtless and ex- 
travagant. But, do not expose me ! I was not 
dishonest in my intentions — and will not abuse your 
confidence, if you will again favour me with it,” 
But how can I help exposing you, Mr. Jones. 
Are you not a defaulter to the amount of six thou- 
sand dollars ?” 

“ True, sir ! But I will repay that, gradually. 
I will live on half of my salary, until the other 
half makes good the loss. Oh, sir ! think of my 
wife and children, and spare us the disgrace and 
ruin !” And the teller clasped his hands, and 
looked up, imploringly, into the cashier’s face. 

The latter was moved. , But his position involved 
duties that could not be sacrificed to feelings. 

How can I depend upon you, Mr. J ones ?” said 
he, after a long silence. “ Once you have deceived 
me — how can I trust you again ? What security 
have I that you will not again be led astray ?” 

“ Oh, sir, the reflections of this dreadful hour 
will be your security — this dreadful hour, in which 
I stand trembling on the brink of infamy and utter 
ruin !” 


184 


it’s only a dollar. 


Gro home, Mr. J ones,” said the cashier, after a 
silence of full five minutes, in which he strove in 
vain to decide his course of action. Go home, 
and give me time to think. By to-morrow morning 
I will decide what it is right for me to do.” 

Oh, sir, do not keep me so long in suspense ! 
It will kiL me.” 

I cannot decide before,” the cashier said grave- 
ly. And now, go home, sir, and be prepared for 
the worst, for I cannot tell what will be the result 
of my deliberations.” 

We will not attempt to portray the feelings of 
Mr. Jones during the dreadful night that followed — 
nor those of his wife, to whom he told all as soon 
as he returned home. 

On the next morning he went early to the bank, 
in a state of intense anxiety. The cashier met him 
as soon as he entered, and then the two retired to 
the cashier’s private room. Poor Jones felt like a 
criminal on his way to the gallows, with one faint 
hope in his mind of a reprieve — a hope more truly 
painful than the certainty that there was no escape. 

Sit down, Mr. Jones,” said the cashier, solemn- 
ly, and Mr. Jones sat down. 

A silence of many moments ensued. The cash- 
ier’s brow was clouded, and it was evident that he 
was undetermined how to act. His duty as a public 
officer prompted one course, and humanity another 
At last he said, in an earnest voice — 


it’s only a dollar. 


185 


Mr. J ones ! — can I, dare I trust you ?” 

Oh, sir, do not hesitate ! This hour of intense, 
almost hopeless agony, is the guarantee for my fu- 
ture faithfulness. Trust me, sir, and I will be true 
to your confidence.^^ 

“ But how will you make good the deficiency in 
your account 

It will require time, sir ; but I believe I can do 
it. My true deficiency is $5,650. There was due 
yesterday, and yet undrawn, a quarter’s salary. I 
have a carriage and a pair of horses, which will 
bring not less than seven hundred dollars — they 
cost a thousand. My wife’s jewellery, and my own, 
including watches and gold chains, we estimated 
last night at not less than six hundred dollars. 
We have been thoughtlessly extravagant in these 
matters. How we ever accumulated so much really 
worthless stuff, I can hardly tell. But we were al- 
ways buying something. And then our plants and 
flowers would certainly bring a hundred dollars. 
There are among them many that are very rare and 
beautiful. Besides these things, we have a great 
deal of costly furniture, and ornaments, which we 
will let go. In all, I feel sanguine that I can re- 
duce the debt I owe the bank to three thousand 
dollars. I have told my wife all about my present 
dreadful condition, and she says — ^Let all go.’ 
She is willing to come down to the poorest condition, 
60 that I may not be exposed and ruined. Six bun- 


ISO 


it’s only a dollar. 


dred dollars a year, she is confident, will be enough 
for us, and she proposes that we move into tho 
suburbs of the city, where rent will be low, and the 
change in our appearance not be so much noticed. 
In four years, at the longest, I will be able to make 
all straight again.^' 

For more than a minute, the cashier mused in 
silence — then extending his hand, he said — 

“ Mr. Jones, I will trust you.^^ 

The teller burst into tears and sank upon a chair. 

What a gulf of ruin I have escaped V’ he said, 
at length rising, and again grasping the cashier’s 
hand. 

It was on a calm summer evening, about four 
years after, that Mr. and Mrs. Jones sat near a win- 
dow of their neat little dwelling, far in the suburbs 
of the large city of which they were residents. 
Every thing around them was neat, plain, and com- 
fortable. 

This day I am a free man !” Mr. Jones said, 
after a brief pause in their conversation. “ I drew 
my quarter’s salary this morning, and after paying 
off the balance of my debt to the bank, have just 
one hundred dollars left. How narrc w an escape I 
have made ! It makes me tremble whenever I 
think of it.” 

“ Oh Henry,” — and his wife leaned upon his arm 
and looked him tenderly in the face, while the 


it’s only a dollar. 


187 


moisture dimmed her eyes — ^^how glad am I to 
see this hour ! — this hour, that I have scarcely dared 
hope for. We have had a hard lesson to learn, but 
I feel that it has been a salutary one. We shall 
again be happy.” 

Yes, far happier than, with our former views 
and feelings, we could even have been under cir- 
cumstances the most prosperous. I could not have 
believed, once, in the possibility of our being con- 
tented with every thing around us so plain as we 
now have it. But I find that it is not so much the 
external circumstances that make happiness, as the 
internal condition of the mind. If we look out of 
ourselves for happiness, as sad experience has proved, 
we meet only disappointment, and are in danger of 
becoming in circumstances that may sadden every 
moment of our after lives. Let us, then, never 
forget the past four years. They are full of lessons 
of wisdom.” 

Nor were those troubled years ever forgotten. 
Their lessons of prudence and economy — their 
thought-exciting incidents — their seasons of sad re- 
flection, n?ade an impression that never wore off. 
Mr. Jones occupied a high position of trust in the 
community, and none suspect that once his feet well- 
nigh slipped, while he tottered on the brink of ruin 
and infamy. 


HIEING A SERVANT. 


Well, I’ll just give up at once ; so there, now ! 
It’s no use to tiy any longer !” said Mrs. Parry, 
passionately, as she came into the parlour, where her 
husband sat reading, and threw herself upon the 
sofa. 

Why, what is the matter now, Cara inquired 
Mr. Parry in a quiet tone, for he had seen like states 
of excitement so often that they had ceased to disturb 
him. 

The matter ? Why, a good deal ! Sally is 
going away day after to-morrow, and I shall be left 
without a cook again. And what shall I do then ? 
Can you tell me that 

“ Hire another,” was the unmoved reply of Mr. 
Parry. 

Yes, it’s easy enough to say ‘ hire another,’ but 
saying and doing are two things. I never expect to 
get another as good as Sally, and she has been 
troublesome enough, dear knows !” 

Mr. Parry laid aside his new.spapcr, folded his 
hands together, and assuming a resigned attitude. 

1S8 


IIIRINO A SERVANT. 


189 


looked his wife in the face, with an air of composure 
that annoyed her exceedingly. 

“ You seem always to think this trouble about 
servants a very little matter,’’ said she, somewhat 
pettishly ; I only wish you had the trial of it for 
awhile !” 

“ I have no desire, I can assure you, Cara,” he 
replied, in a soothing voice. “ I never envied you, 
or any other woman, the pleasures appertaining to 
household duties. But you must allow me to think 
that much of the difficulty and annoyance which is 
too frequently experienced, might be avoided.” 

“ No doubt you think so. All men do. I verily 
believe there never was a man yet who possessed true 
sympathy for the peculiar trials incident to house- 
keeping.” 

‘‘ Come, come, Cara ! that is a sweeping declara- 
tion,” Mr. Parry replied, smiling. “ I, for one, think 
that I feel for you in all your various and conflicting 
duties; and, were it in my power, would lighten every 
one of them. But, as I cannot do this, I cannot of 
course think that, in entering into them, you do 
right to allow them to make you unhappy.” 

It is easy enough to talk, Mr. Parry ; but how 
do you think that I or any other woman can look 
on unmoved and see every thing in disorder ? If 
dinner is late, or badly cooked, you are very sure to 
speak about it; and how do you think I can feel 
easy when I see that, through the inattention of the 


19.0 


HIRING A SERVANT. 


servant, such a tiling is going to happen, or feel at 
all pleasant after it has happened 

This was carrying the truth right home ; and Mr. 
Parry remembered, all at once, that at sundry times 
he had grumbled because dinner was not on the 
table promptly ; and, on various occasions, because 
the meat was overdone or underdone, or the vegeta- 
bles cold or badly cooked. He therefore sat very 
still, and did not reply^ Mrs. Parry perceived the 
impression she had made, and continued : — 

Or, how do you think that I can feel otherwise 
than I do in prospect of just such things again, and 
a dozen others more annoying still ? Pve had trouble 
enough with Sally, to get her to understand how 
things ought to be done, and it disheartens me out- 
right now that she is determined to go away. I don’t 
care so much about myself, but I know how these 
household irregularities annoy you, and that you 
blame me for them, even though you don’t say any 
thing.” 

Mr. Parry was silenced for the time. He saw 
that he was thrown completely in the wrong,” and 
that it would be useless to attempt then to argue 
himself out of his unenviable position. His wife, 
thus victorious, had the uninterrupted privilege, for 
that day, at least, of being just as unhappy as she 
wished, in prospect of Sally’s departure and the 
annoyances that were to follow this event. 

During that day and the next, a gloom pervaded 


H THING A SEIIVANT. 


191 


the household of Mrs. Parry. Sally felt more than 
ever anxious to be away. Once or twice the idea 
of remaining passed through her mind; but a sight 
of Mrs. Parry’s overcast countenance instantly dis- 
pelled it. 

On the morning of the day on which Sally was to 
leave, an Irish girl, who had learned, through the 
chambermaid, that the cook was going away, applied 
for the situation. 

Are you a good cook inquired Mrs. Parry. 

Oh, yes, ma’am ; I can cook any thing.’' 

Where did you live last ?” 

I am living in a tavern, ma’am.” 

Why do you wish to leave there ?” 

“ I don’t like the place. You are so much 
exposed in a tavern.” 

What is your name ?” 

Margaret.” 

Well, Margaret, you can come on trial to-mor- 
row morning. Sally is going to stay to-night.” 

And so Margaret went away, promising to come 
back in the morning. At dinner-time, Mrs. Parry 
seemed a little more cheerful. 

“ I’ve engaged a cook,” she said, after the meal 
was nearly over. 

‘‘ Have you, indeed ! Well, I’m glad of that, Cara. 
You see you’ve had all your trouble for nothing.” 

I’m not sure of that,” she replied. ‘‘ It’s one 
thing to hire a cook, and another thing to be pleased 


1.92 


HIRING A SERVANT. 


with her. She’s an Irish girl, and you know thai 
they are never very tidy about their work.’’ 

But they are, usually, willing and teachable. 
Arc* they not?” 

Some of them are. But, then, who wants the 
trouble of teaching every new servant her duty? 
It’s enough to pay them their wages.” 

Still, in thus teaching them, we are doing good. 
And we should always be willing to take upon our- 
selves a little trouble, if, in doing so, we can benefit 
another.” 

That would be too generous ! I might, on your 
principle, be willing to do nothing else but teach 
ignorant servants their duty, and thus fit them to 
make other houses pleasant, instead of my own. For, 
it generally happens, when you have made one of 
them worth having, she knows some one with whom 
she would rather live than with you. There was 
Nancy, that didn’t know how to w^ash a dish or 
cook a potato when I took her. She lived with us 
a year, until she could turn her hand to every thing, 
and then went to Mrs. Clayton’s, where she has been 
for six years. Mrs. Clayton told me, day before 
yesterday, that she was the best woman she had ever 
had in the house, and that she would not part with 
her upon any consideration. And here is Sally, 
with whom I have had my own time. She’s getting 
to be, good for something, and now she’s contented 
here no longer.” 


HIRING A SERVANT. 


193 


That does seem a little hard, Cara. But, then, 
donH you feel a gratification in reflecting that, 
through your means, Mrs. Clayton has obtained a 
servant who fills her place so well as to give satis- 
faction to the family 

I can’t say that I do,” Mrs. Parry replied in a 
half positive, half hesitating tone. 

Then, if you do not,” her husband said, seriously, 
^^it is time that you began, at least, to make the 
effort to feel thus. The reason that we are so often 
made unhappy by the actions of those around us, is, 
because we regard our own good and our own com- 
fort of primary importance. Any thing that disturbs 
these, disturbs us. • But, if we desired to impart 
benefits as well as to receive them, we should come, 
as a necessary consequence, into a state of mind 
that could not be easily agitated. We would see, in 
the wrong actions and in the short-comings of others, 
that which affected them injuriously, as well as our- 
selves, and in trying to modify or correct them, we 
would have a reference to their good as well as to our 
own.” 

That may all be true enough ; but I am sure 
that I could never act from such disinterested mo- 
tives. It is not in me.” 

It is not in any one, naturally, to act thus, Cara 
But that is no reason why good principles may not 
be formed in us. ’ You can at least see, I suppose, 
that, if all acted thus with reference to the good ^f 

VI.— 17 


194 


HIRING A SERVANT. 


others, every thing in society would move on much 
more pleasantly than it does.” 

‘^Oh, yes, of course. But if only a few, why, 
they might work their lives through for the good of 
others, and be no better off by it.” 

A selfish idea, I see, is uppermost in your mind, 
Cara,” her husband said kindly, and with an encou- 
raging smile, for it was not often that he could get 
her to consent to talk rationally on such subjects. 

The few who thus acted would not have in their 
minds the idea of a reward. The delight which 
naturally springs up in the mind from the perform- 
ance of good actions to others, would be to them 
tt much higher gratification than any thing that 
could be given to them as an external reward for 
what they had done. Let me see if I cannot make 
this plain to your mind. Suppose Mrs. Clayton had 
so thoroughly educated an ignorant servant as to 
make her fully acquainted with all the household 
duties that might be required of her ; and that, after 
she was thus fitted for the performance of these 
duties, this servant left her, and finally came into 
your family. Do you not think that Mrs. Clayton 
might feel delight in the thought, that through her 
efforts to instruct that servant, she had acquired the 
ability of obtaining a comfortable home at any time, 
and you had the pleasure of having one in your family 
who lightened you of many a care, and caused your 
household arrangements to move on harmoniously?” 


HIRING A SERVANT. 


195 


Yes, I can see that she might. But I am not 
BO sure that she would feel thus.^^ 

And you can see, no doubt, that to feel thus 
Would be much better than to have none but purely 
selfish aflFections.^^ 

Yes, I can see that, too. And, further, I should 
be very glad if I could have principles of action so 
elevated.^' 

** You may have them, Cara. We all may have 
them,’^ her husband said, earnestly and feelingly. 

But, then, it will be necessary for us to begin the 
correction in us of whatever is altogether of self; 
and to begin, too, in humble and little things. I 
must cease to complain if every thing should not be 
as orderly as I desire, and cease to do so because I 
know that to complain thus will necessarily make 
you unhappy. I must not regard myself exclusively. 
And you, in reference to your servants, should re- 
gard them and their good, as well as the perfect 
order of your household arrangements. Under such 
a system, if carefully carried out, with the heart in ity 
a wonderful change would occur. In case things 
went wrong — and perfection cannot be attained in 
any thing here — you would cease to feel annoyed 
ind dispirited, as you now often do. The higher 
and more unselfish motives from which you acted 
would superinduce a condition of mind not easy to 
be disturbed.^' 

I fear, husband, that I have defects of character 


196 


HIRING A SERVANT. 


whicli will prevent my ever acting thus/' Mrs. 
Parry said, in a tone slightly desponding. 

A consciousness of your weakness, my dear Cara, 
should make you doubly watchful. The end to he 
gained is worth years of trial. If you can only 
gain your own consent to commence the work of 
reformation from principle, you will soon begin to 
perceive its peaceable fruits, and thus find ample 
encouragement for perseverance/' 

I can at least t7y, husband," she said, looking 
up into his face with an expression of calm determi- 
nation. But," and her countenance changed, and 
assumed a look of despondency, “ how shall I begin ? 
— that is the puzzling question." 

To begin aright is almost half the victory. And 
here I must confess that I hardly know how to give 
advice. But perhaps I can suggest a thought or two 
that will help you. This new cook who is coming, 
you say, is an Irish girl. It is not probable that, in 
the outset, she will be at all capable of doing her 
work as you wish it done. Make up your mind to 
this, resolving, at the same time, that you will be 
kind and forbearing towards her. That, no matter 
how awkward she may be, or how ignorant, that you 
will not exhibit in her presence any thing like im- 
patience. Think of her, too, as a poor girl, who ha? 
had few opportunities, and who is now in a strange 
country, and, perhaps, altogether friendless. Your 
kind feelings will then be drawn out towards 


HIRING A SERVANT. 


197 


her, and it is impossible for you to feel kindness and 
concern for her without its being perceived. The 
Irish character, you know, is grateful. From the 
awakening up in her mind of affection towards you, 
she will be doubly anxious to serve and to please you. 
Thus a life will be put into all her actions. Under 
such an impulse, she will learn quicker and remem- 
ber better all you wish her to do, than she possibly 
could if she were acted upon by less elevated motives.^' 
I see and feel the force of what you say,” Mrs. 
Parry replied, in a subdued tone, ^^and will, at 
least, try to put in practice the hints you have 
given me.” 

On the next morning, after breakfast, Margaret 
came, and Sally went away, leaving the kitchen in 
her charge. For a little while after Sally had left, 
Mrs. Parry permitted herself to feel discouraged; 
but from this state of mind she soon roused herself, 
and went out into the kitchen to instruct Margaret 
in her duties. It first occurred to her, after she had 
gone in where the girl was, that she ought to do 
something to make her feel easy and at home. The 
wish to do this was soon followed by an idea of how 
it might be done. So she said — 

Come, Margaret, bring your box up-stairs, and 
I will show you your room.” 

So Margaret lifted her box, which she had set 
down in one corner of the kitchen, and followed 

Mrs. Parry up into one of the garret rooms, which 
17 * 


198 


HIRING A SERVANT. 


was plastered, and had but a few days before received 
a fresh coat of whitewash. 

This is the room, Margaret, in which you, with 
the chambermaid, will sleep. She will keep it in 
order, of course ; your duties will lie in the kitchen , 
You will find her very kind, and you must try and 
live on good terms with each other.’' 

^‘It sha’n’t be my fault, ma’am, if we don’t,” 
Margaret said, warmly, for she felt Mrs. Parry’s kind 
manner, and was instantly drawn towards Tier. 

You say that you understand how to cook almost 
any thing?” Mrs. Parry remarked, after they had 
returned to the kitchen. 

Margaret hesitated a moment, while the colour 
rose to her face. At length she said, with a good 
deal of feeling in her tone of voice — 

I wouldn’t deceive you for the world, ma’am, 
now you seem so kind to me. I am not a very good 
cook, for I never had much chance; but then, 
ma’am, I am anxious to learn.” 

<^But didn’t you tell me, Margaret, that you 
could cook any thing ?” Mrs. Parry asked in an 
altered tone. 

<^Oh, yes, indeed, ma’am, and so I did. But 
then what could I do ? If I had said I wasn’t a 
good cook, you wouldn’t have taken me ; and so I’d 
a had no chance to learn at all. But indeed, ma’am, 
I’ll try to do right, and if trying’ 11 do any good, I 
am sure I will please you.” 


HIRING A SERVANT, 


199 


Mrs. Parry hesitated. She hardly knew what to 
do or say. There was something in Margaret^s 
present frankness and apparent sincerity that she 
liked; but this was counterbalanced by a di- 
rect, premeditated falsehood, and an intention to 
deceive. After pausing for a few moments, she 
said — 

Well, Margaret, I cannot say that I like your 
attempt to deceive me, but now you are here, I will 
at least give you a trial. 

Indeed, ma'am, it was necessity entirely that 
made me do it ; but I knew that if I tried I could 
learn, and I thought, surely the mistress will have 
patience with me when I am willing !" 

This modified Mrs. Parry considerably ; and feel- 
ing, from having at first almost compelled herself to 
take an interest in the poor Irish girl, some touches 
of real concern for her, she said — 

“ If you are really willing to learn and anxious to 
please, Margaret, I have no objection to taking some 
pains to instruct you. But then I shall want you 
to pay attention to what I tell you, so that after I 
have once given you a plain direction, you will not 
discourage me by forgetting it when you come to do 
the thing over again.'' 

Margaret promised faithfully to do the best she 
could, and then set about her work. Heretofore, on 
hiring a new cook, Mrs. Parry had installed her into 
*he kitchen, and then left her to go about things in 


200 


HIRING A SERVANT. 


her own way, under all the disadvantages of being 
in a strange place, unacquainted with the economical 
arrangements of the family. Of course, no one ever 
suited her at first, and it was usually some weeks 
before things got into regular going order. In the 
present instance, however, she felt that there was a 
positive necessity for her to plan and arrange all the 
work there. She found Margaret really ignorant 
of the very first principles of her assumed calling. 
But she was so willing, active, and good-tempered, 
that she could not get out of humour with her, 
though several times during the morning she was 
sorely tempted. Dinner was ready at the hour, and 
well cooked, too, for it had all been timed and per- 
formed under Mrs. Parry^s own direction ; and she 
well knew how to do it. 

Your dinner is in good time, and in good order, 
Mr. Parry remarked, after sitting down to the table ; 

and you don't seem to look worried, though a little 
warm, as if you had been pretty busy. I hope your 
new cook has proved herself better than you had 
anticipated that she would be.'' 

<^She has proved to be quite deficient in every 
thing," Mrs. Parry replied. 

“Indeed! I am sorry to hear that, I thought 
she recommended herself highly." 

“ So she did. But she confessed to me this morn- 
ing, that she did so to secure the place, hoping to 
learn afterwards." 


HIRING A SERVANT. 


201 


That is a bad sign I suppose you do not in- 
tend keeping her 

Well, as to that, she seems so anxious to learn, 
and, withal, so willing and good-tempered, that I 
feel very much disposed to take some trouble with 
her. I have been in the kitchen most of the morn- 
ing, and, indeed, cooked the dinner pretty nearly 
myself. I see much in her to like, though a good 
deal that tries my patience. I must confess that 
so decided an untruth as she told me prejudices me 
against her. Still, much allowance should be made 
for a defective education and the disadvantages 
under which she found herself placed.” 

That is sensible and kind, Cara,” her husband 
replied, evidently pleased at finding his wife so 
readily making the effort to act from motives less 
selfish than those which had too uniformly governed 
her in matters relating to her domestics, and I have 
no idea that your labour will be thrown away.” 

I feel somehow or other that it will not be thrown 
away,” Mrs. Parry said ; and I feel that my mind 
is much calmer and more encouraged than it would 
have been if I had left her alone in the kitchen, 
with the determination to send her away if she were 
not able to do things to my liking.” 

^<You are getting hold of the true philosophy, 
Cara,” said her husband, with an encouraging smile. 

We never cultivate good feelings towards others. 
Or make an effort towards being kind to them, that 


202 


HIRING A SERVANT. 


we have not a reward in a composed state of mind 
more than compensating for the self-denial oi trouble 
it may have cost us.^' 

The truth of what you say is not only apparent 
to me, but I can realize it from having felt it,^^ was 
Mrs. Parry ^s reply. 

That evening, a Mrs. Coster, one of her friends, 
came in to spend an hour or two. Their conversa- 
tion, by a natural transition, passed to the subject 
of servants. 

I am almost out of all heart,” Mrs. Coster said, 
with a sigh, as soon as the topic was introduced. 

Indeed, IVe given up all hope of ever having any 
peace again, while I am in the power of so unprinci- 
pled a class as domestics. Is it not too bad that 
the happiness of a whole family must be interrupted 
by a cook or a chambermaid? It makes me feel 
downright angry, whenever I think about it. I see 
it, as clear as can be, that we shall have to break up 
and go to boarding.” 

‘‘ That would be exchanging one evil for a dozen,” 
remarked Mrs. Parry. 

So I used to think,” Mrs. Coster replied. But, 
really, I have been forced to change my mind. 
Every day the trouble with servants is increased. 
If you get one that is worth having, she will be off 
at the end of two or three months ; and to nine out of 
ten I wouldn’t give house room. They are, in fact, 
not worth the powder it would take to shoo! 


HIRING A SERVANT. 


203 


them ! But how are you off in this respect, Mrs. 
Parry V* 

“Well, I have my own troubles, Mrs. Coster. 
Sally, who has been with me a good while, left me 
this morning, and I’ve got a raw Irish girl in the 
kitchen, who couldn’t cook a dinner in a decent way 
to save her life.” 

“ Oh, dear 1” ejaculated Mrs. Coster, clasping her 
hands together, and rolling up her eyes. “ Then 
you have got your hands full. 1 had a trial of one 
of your raw Irish girls once, and a pretty piece of 
baggage she was. I left her to cook the dinner on 
the first day — and such a dinner ! But I will not make 
the effort to give you an idea of it, or the dozen other 
things she attempted to do. I never want to hear 
of raw Irish girls again, since I had a trial of Mar- 
garet Coyle.” 

“ Margaret Coyle I” Mrs. Parry said in a tone of 
surprise. • 

“ Yes, Margaret Coyle j and I hope, in mercy, it 
isn’t her that you’ve got.” 

“ Yes, it is no other than her,” Mrs. Parry replied, 
despondingly. 

“Oh, dear! oh, dear! Then you’ve got your 
hands full I Why, unless she has changed a good 
deal since I had her, she is not able to do a single 
thing as it ought to be done. And, besides, she is 
slovenly and dirty. You’d better send her off at 
once, for you’ll never make any thing out of her.’' 


204 


HIRING A SERVANT. 


She seems at least, willing and good-tempered,'^ 
urged Mrs. Parry, in her favour. 

Not by any means. I found her dilatory ana 
unmanageable ; and she is the only servant who ever 
gave me a saucy word." 

^^Ah, me !" sighed Mrs. Parry, “it’s a hard case, 
truly ! Why can’t domestics feel some sense of 
justice towards the families in which they reside 

“ Because they are a low, unprincipled set !’’ Mrs. 
Coster replied, warmly ; “ and I don’t know that we 
ever need expect much more from them. They’re 
generally envious of their mistresses, and ashamed 
of the idea of being servants, and think, in conse- 
quence, that it shows a spirit of independence to be 
saucy and disregardful of the comfort of the families 
in which they reside.’’ 

After Mrs. Coster went away, Mrs. Parry seemed 
very much dispirited, and remarked to her husband 
that she was afraid all her hope of making any 
thing out of Margaret was vain. 

“ That may be,’’ Mr. Parry remarked. “ But it 
does not at all follow, it seems to me, from what 
Mrs. Coster has said. I am confident that she never 
gave Margaret a fair trial. And I am farther in- 
clined to think that she worried the poor girl until 
she was roused, and answered her back in a spirit 
of offended pride." 

“ Yes, that may be very true. I never thought 
that Mrs. Coster had much feeling for her domestics. 


HIRING A SERVANT. 


205 


She expects them to do just so, and never spares 
them if there is any deviation from her rules. Nor 
does she think it required of her to consider them 
at all, except as necessary appendages to her 
family.^* 

^^That is the great error, Mr. Parry replied. 

So long as the majority of people look upon do- 
mestics as necessary evils, so long will the majority 
of people find it hard work to get along with them. 
Nor is this kind of trouble confined altogether to 
the one party in the case. The servant has as hard, 
and usually a much harder time of it, than the 
mistress. She is expected to do every thing for the 
comfort of the family, and yet is to be considered no 
farther than as entitled to her regular monthly hire. 
Too often, she is made to bear all the surplus ill- 
humour of the woman in whose service she is en- 
gaged ; and, as a general rule, is too often a stranger 
to all kindness and consideration. This is speaking 
with a good deal of seeming latitude ; and yet, Cara, 
you will admit that there is too much truth in what 
I have said.^' 

cannot deny it,’^ Mrs. Parry replied, seriously; 

nor can I get away from the conviction, that I am 
far from being innocent in the matter myself. We 
are apt to take it for granted that those under ui 
are also below us in feeling; — that they are not en- 
titled to the same consideration that those are whose 
condition in life is equal or superior to our own.^* 

VI.— 18 


206 


HIRING A SERVANT. 


That, certainly, is a great fault. It may often 
happen, too, that the poor girl who is forced to go 
into the kitchen, is one, the promise of whose early 
years was far superior to that of the individual for 
whom she is compelled to labour. And she may, 
also, have as acute feelings, and be possessed of as 
sound moral principles. But who considers her in 
this light V* 

The conversation thus commenced continued for 
some time ; but we will not weary the reader by re- 
peating it farther ; enough has been given to show 
the principles it involved. 

During the next morning, Mrs. Parry gave up her 
time to Margaret, and endeavoured, in a kind man- 
ner, to instruct her in the duties she had assumed. 
The poor girl seemed very anxious to learn, and 
evinced a quickness of apprehension that disappointed 
Mrs. Parry agreeably. To see how far she recollected 
the directions given on the day previous, the same 
kind of a dinner was prepared. Margaret was at 
fault but once or twice, and when the omission was 
pointed out, she said she would try and never forget 
that again; and said it so earnestly, that it was 
evident she would be likely to keep the thing in her 
memory. Much to the surprise and pleasure of 
Mrs. Parry, in the course of a week, Margaret could 
get along very well in the kitchen, carefully con- 
tinuing to do every thing in the exact way she had 
been told that it ought to be done. Sometimes, 


HIRING A SERVANT. 


207 • 


when Mrs. Parry was in a less calm and nleasant 
state of mind than usual, and any thing would go 
wrong, or Margaret would forget some particular 
direction, she would speak to her in a voice less kind 
than she had from the first assumed when addressing 
her. Whenever this happened, the poor girl would 
look up into her face with an appealing expression, 
and sometimes the moisture could he seen gathering 
in her eyes. Mrs. Parry always felt this, and it en- 
abled her to correct in herself an habitual petulance 
when any thing occurred to disturb her. The im- 
provement manifest in Margaret continued, and at 
the end of the first month, Mrs. Parry was better 
pleased with her than with any one she had ever had. 
From a uniform, kind consideration, she had come 
to feel an interest in her, and one day asked her why 
she had left her native home. The question seemed 
to excite some painful emotions in the mind of the 
Irish girl, but she replied, readily and respectfully : 

^‘Misfortunes, ma’am. When my father and 
mother died, and the landlord rented our cottage 
and acre of ground to another family, me and the 
two little children were turned out, to do the best 
we could. We had always had a plenty of good 
potatoes, and milk, and oatmeal bread, and we were 
as happy as the greatest in the land. But now the 
hardships came. I didn’t mind myself so much, for 
t was most grown up, and could do pretty well ; but 
it made my heart ache to see little Jamie and Catho 


^08 


HIRING A SERVANT. 


rine turned on the parish, with no one to be kind 
and good to them as I had been. Poor things ! It 
was hard fare and cruel treatment they had. And 
I could do nothing for them, though I am sure, if 
my heart’s blood could have done them any good, 
they should have had it. Little Catherine didn’t 
stand it more than a year. It was wrong, maybe, 
but I did feel glaa wnen she died. Oh, ma’am, if 
you had seen her when she was laid out for a little 
while before they boxed her up with rough boards, 
and put her down in the ground, without a priest or 
a word of prayer over her, it would have made your 
heart ache, I am sure, as it did mine. Before she 
went into the poorhouse, she was fat and round as 
your little George is now ; but when she died, she 
was all skin and bone, and her eyes were sunk ’way 
down in her head. And when little Jamie was let 
come and see her, before she was buried, he looked 
so pale and thin, and full of sorrow, that it broke 
me down entirely. Oh, ma’am, you don't know what 
it is to see those you love as dearly as you love your 
life, suffering and dying before you, and yet have 
no power to help them.” The girl paused a moment 
or two to recover herself, and then continued, 

Well, Jamie, he didn’t last long. He died as 
Catherine had, from want of good food and kind 
treatment. I saw the last of him, too, and then it 
«eemed as if a great load had been taken off my 
heart. I knew they had both gone where they 


HIRINa A SERVANT. 


20& 


would be bappy. Some time after this, my brother, 
who had been in this country a few years, sent mo 
over some money, and asked me to join him, saying 
that he would take care of me. I came out, of 
course. But, ma’am, when I got here, he had died 
with the fever. I felt like I should have to give up. 
I was in a strange country, and among strangers. 
But they told me at the tavern where I was, that if 
I would turn to as chambermaid, they would give 
me four dollars a mouth. I was glad enough to do 
so. But I did not like it much, especially when I 
got acquainted with one or two girls, who were em- 
ployed in families, and who said it was so much 
pleasanter there. I didn’t like the exposure of a 
tavern, and wanted badly to get into the quiet of a 
private house. At last, one of my acquaintances 
told me she could get me a place as cook. ‘ But I 
didn’t know how to cook,’ I told her. ^ Oh, never 
mind that,’ she said ; ^ tell the woman you can cook 
every thing, or she won’t have you; and you can 
easily learn after you once get the place.’ So I did 
as I was told. The woman wasn’t kind and good 
to me, as you have been, ma’am. She gave me 
things and told me to get dinner ; I made bad work 
of it, of course. And then she got angry, and called 
me ugly names. Oh, it made me feel so bad I 
From asking a little, as far as I could venture, and 
caking notice why she found fault, I tried to get as 

near right as I could. But it was no use. I was 
18 * 


210 


HIRING A SERVANT. 


Ignorant, and she did not seem to have any feeling 
for me. I stayed only a week or two, when she got 
angry with me for doing something wrong, and said 
very hard words to me. I couldn’t stand it any 
longer, ma’am, and so talked back to her. This 
made her a great deal worse, and I thought I had 
better leave and go back to the tavern, and so I did. 
After a while, I heard that you wanted some one, 
and I told you, because I was persuaded to, the same 
story about my knowing how to cook every thing. 
You know the rest, ma’am. I think I improve 
some, don’t I ?” she added, innocently. 

^^Oh, yes, Margaret,” replied Mrs. Parry, you 
have improved very much ; and if you continue to 
improve, and are as willing and good-tempered as 
you have been, I think there will be no need of our 
parting soon. But was not that Mrs. Coster with 
whom you lived ?” 

Indeed, ma’am, and it was I” Margaret said, 
looking up with surprise. 

I know her very well, Margaret, and she is, in 
many things, a kind-hearted woman. But she is 
sometimes thoughtless. She, I suppose, expected 
to find in you what she wanted, a good cook, and 
was very much disappointed, and consequently, out 
of patience, when she found that you could do 
nothing that you had engaged to do.” 

Here the conversation ended between Mrs. Parry 
and her new cook, for whom, after hearing her brief 


HIRING A SERVANT 


211 


history, she felt added kindness, and also an in- 
creased degree of confidence in her. Nor was she 
disappointed. From, apparently, the most unpro- 
mising materials, she came into the possession of a 
domestic, through kindness and consideration for her, 
who was ever faithful, tl»AT»ce invaluable. And 
even more than this, she had been led to see in her- 
self and correct it, that which, while it influenced 
her, would have made it impossible to retain, for 
any length of time, a good servant. That particular 
disposition was, a habit of petulance and fault-find- 
ing, when things were a little wrong. Nothing so 
discourages a domestic as the clouded brow of her 
mistress. If there is sunshine, she will go about 
her duties with cheerfulness and perform every thing 
quicker and better. But the great prerequisite in 
the mistress of a family is that calm, dignified, and 
uniform consistency of conduct which commands in- 
voluntary respect. There are within the circle of 
almost every woman^s acquaintance, some who are 
never troubled with domestics. All about them 
seem to be in the cheerful performance of every 
duty. Let the manner of one of these towards her 
servants be observed. She is never heard to speak 
to them in a tone of command, and often, in giving 
directions, she will be heard to say in a mild tone, 
Nancy, I wish you^^ to do so and so; or, ^^Will 
you^^ do this or that thing. And yet, no one hesi- 
tates or uses improper familiarities towards her 


212 


HIRING A SERVANT. 


She has no better materials to act upon than others, 
but she moulds and fashions them in a different way. 
On no occasion does she get excited, and say unrea- 
sonable things to them ; for this would destroy in 
their minds all respect for her : as it always does in 
every instance where such a bad habit is indulged 
in. But we will not tire our lady readers by lectur- 
ing them upon their domestic duties. We are sure 
that they have their own troubles in this respect. 
Nor will we presume to condemn any who cannot 
come** up to the standard we have attempted to raise ; 
but, if they will only try to do so, and carefully 
look within, rather than without, for difficulties and 
hinderances, we are sure that some of them will be 
able to get along with that troublesome class of 
people called helps, domestics, or servants, as fashion 
or prejudice decides, much better than heretofore. 


mm MMP 


Tg'O'O" arXJX>C3-:H3I3 

by your house jusb as much as by yo'ar dress. Keep it neat 
and clean and your re})utation will shine. Neglect it and 
your good name will suffer. Do not think that house-cleaning 
is too troublesome ; it is worth all it costs, especially if you 
reduce the outlay of time and strength by using SAPOLIO, 
at 10c. a cake. 


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TTJST i=n:jBXjisz3::E:iD. 

VICE VERSA; 

Or, A LESSON TO FATHERS, 

By F. ANSTEY. 

1 vol., 12mo., cloth gilt, $1.00; 1 vol., 12mo., paper. 50 cents; also in LoveH’e 

Library No. 30, 20 cents. 

EXTRACTS FROM NOTICES BY THE PRESS. 

THE SATURDAY REVIEW — “ If there ever was a book made np from 
beginning to end of laughter, yet not a comic book, ora ‘merry’ book, cr a 
book of jokes, or a book of pictures, or a jest book, or a tomfool book, but a 
perfectly sober and serious book, in the reading of which a sober man may 
laugh without shame from beginning to end it is the book called Vice 
Versa; or, a Lesson to Fathers.’ ...We close the book, recommending it 
very earnestly to all fathers, in the first instance, and their sons, nephews, 
uncles, and male cousins next.” 

THE PALL MALL GAZETTE.— ” ‘ Vice Versa' is one of the most 
diverting books that we have read fernnany a day It is equally calculated to 
amuse the August idler, and to keep up the spirits of those who stay in town 
and work, while others are holiday making .. The book is singularly well 
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to the life, and every scene is brisk and well considered, ’ 

THE ATHEN.EUM. — ” The w'hole story is told with delightful drollery 
and spirit, and there is not a dull page in the volume. It should be added that 
Mr Austey writes well, and in a style admirably suited to his amusing subject 

THE SPECTATOR Mr. Anstey deserves the thanks of everybody for 
showing that there is.still a little fun left in this world ..It is long since we 
r< ad anything more truly humorous . . We must admit that we have not 

laughed so heartily over anything for some years bacxi as we have over tuis 
' Lesson for Fathers.’ ” 

THE ACADEMY.—” It is certainly the best book of its kind that has ap- 
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TUB WORLD.— ‘ The idea of a father and son exchanging their identit.y 
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wildly comic and amusing: it is in parts exceedingly pathetic ” 

THE COURT JOURNAL.— *• The story is told with so much wit and 
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authors of the day.” 

VANITY FAIR —” The book is, in our opinion, the drollest work <ve» 
written in the English language ” 

TRUTH.—” Mr Anstey has done an exceedingly difficult thit.g 6o admira- 
bly and artfully as to conceal its difficulties. Haven’t for 7 ^rc.-ead»o iriesist 
ibly humorous a book” 


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232. Monarch of Mincing Lane. .2o 


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I 214. Phantom Fortune 20 


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Second Tliouiihts ~0 I 

230. Belinda iO f 

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113. More Words about the Bible 90 \ 


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300. The Pilgrim’s Progress SO 


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100. Nimport, Part 1 15 I 102. Tritons, Part 1 15 

“ Part II 15 1 “ Part II 15 


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183. Her Mother’s Sin 

277. Dora Thorne 

287. Beyond Pardon.* 


.20 

,20 

.20 


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201 . Famous Funny Fel lo wt; fO 

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9 . “■ “ Part II 10 I 87. Heart and Science 20 


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1 315. Winnifred Power ao 


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38. A Tale of Two Cities 20 

75. Child’s History of England. .20 

91. Pickwick Papers, Parti 20 

Pickwick Paper-, Part II 20 

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144. Old Curiosity Shop, Part I.. 15 
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150. Baruiby Rudgo, Parti 15 

Barnaby Rudge, Part 11 15 

158. David Coppertield, Part I... 20 
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170. Hard Times 20 

192. Great Expectations 20 

201. Mariin Chuzzlewit, Part I. 20 
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210. Americm Notes 15 

219. Dombey and Son, Part I... 20 
Dombey and Son, Part II.. 20 

223. Little DOrrit, Part 1 20 

Little Dorrit, Part II. 20 


228. Our Mutual Friend, Parti. .20 
Our Mutual Friend, Part 11.20 
231. Nicholas Nickleby, Part 1.20 
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234. Pictures from Italy 15 

237. The Boy at Mugby !io 

244. Bleuk House, Part 1 20 

Bleak House, Part II 20 


246. Sketches of Toiing Couples . 10 
261. Master Humphrey’s Clock. .i’.O 
207. The Haunted House, etc... 10 
270. The Mudfog Papers, etc 10 


273. Sketches by Boz 20 

274. A Christmas Carol, etc 15 

282. Uncommercial Traveler 20 

288. Somebody’s Luggage, etc. 10 
293. The Battle of Life, etc 10 

297. Mystery of Edwin Drood *,20 

298. Reprinted Pieces * 20 

302. No Thoroughfare lo 


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76. Molly Bawn 20 

78. Phyllis 20 

86 . Monica 10 

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136. Loys, Lore’ Beresford 20 

132. Moonshine and Marguerites. 10 

162. Faith and Unfaith 20 

168. Beauty’s Daughters 20 

284. Rossmoyne 20 


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19. Foekers After God 20 50. Early Days of Christianity, 

60. Ea' ly Days of Christianity, Part II 20 

Part 1 20 

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56. Adim Bede, Part 1 15 I 

Adam Bede, Part II 15 

69. Amos Barton 10 

71. Silas Marner... 10 

79. Romola, Part I 15 

Romola, Part II 15 

149. Janet’s Repentance 10 

151. Felix Holt.... 20 

174. Middlemarch, Part I 20 

Middlemarch, Part II 20 

By M. BETHAM EDWARDS. I 
303. Disarmed 1 j 


195 Daniei Deronda, Part 1 . . , .20 

Daniel Deronda, Part II 20 

202 Theophrastus Such.. lO 

205 The Spanish Gypsy, Jubal 
and other Poems .20 

207 The Mill on the Floss, Part 1. . 15 
The Mill on the Floss, Part II. 15 

208 Brother Jacob and Mr. Gilfil’s 

Love Story 10 

By OCTAVE FEDILUBT. 

41. A Marriage in High Life. . . .20 


By B. L. FARJEON. 

243. Gautran, or the House of White Shadows 20 

By FRANCESCA, (With By R. E. FRANCILLON. 

Preface by JOHN RuSKIN.) 319. A Real Queen * 20 

177. The Story of Ida 10 


By EMILE GABORIAU. 


114. Monsieur Lecoq, Parti ...20 
“ *■ Part II.. 20 

116. Tlie Lerouge Case 20 

120. Other People’s Money 20 


By HENRV GEORGE. 
52. Progress and Poverty ... . 
By CHARLES GIBBON. 

57. The Golden Shaft 

By Mrs. GORE. 

89. The Dean’s Daughter... 


129. In Peril of His Life .20 

138. The Gilded Clique . 20 

1.55. Mystery of Orcivai 20 

161- Promise of Marriage 10 

258. File No. 113 20 

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I 97. India and Ceylon 20 

I By OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 

1 5r. "V icar of Wakefield 10 

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49. The Secret Despatch 20 


20 
20 

...20 

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221. Household Stories and Fairy Tales, Illustrated 20 

By LUDOVIC HALEVY. 

15. L .5bbe Constantin 20 

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43. Two on a Tower. .20 | 157. Romantic Adventures of a Milkmaid. 10 


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107.Housekeepiug&iIomemaking.l5 | 269. One False, Both Fair 2C 

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7. Clytie 20 | 137. Cruel London 20 

By LEONARD HENLEY. ) By PAXTON HOOD. 

26. Life of Washington 20 I 73. Life of Cromwell 15 

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36. Life of Marion 20 | 14. The Tricks of the Greeks Unveiled 20 

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I “ •• Pt. 11.15 


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109. The Spoopendyke Papers. . 20 | 131. Jets and Flashes 20 


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] Tales of a Traveler 20 

UO. Life and Voyages of Colum- 
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199. Lifeaud Voyages of Colum- 
bus, Pt. II 20 

224. Abbotsford and Newstead 

Abbey 10 

236. Knickerbocker History of 

New York... 20 

249. The Crayon Papers 15 

2 ‘i. Tne Alhambra 15 

272, Conquest of Granada 20 1 


279. Conquest of Spain 10 

281. Bracebriage Hall* ... 20 

290. Salmagundi* 20 

299. Astoria * 20 

301. Spanish Voyages 20 

305, A Tour on the Prairies * 10 

308. Life of Mahomet, Parti. *...15 
Life of Mahomet, Part II. *..15 

310. Oliver Goldsmith * 20 

311. Captain Bonneville * 20 

314. Moorish Chronicles * 10 


321. Wolfert’sIloost&Miscellauies*10 


By HAHKIET JAY. 

17. The Dark Colleen 20 


By SAMUEL JOHNSON. 

44. Kasselas 10 


By EDWABD KELLOGG. 

111. Labor and Capital 


20 


By GKACB KENNEDY. 

l.lj. Dunallan, Parti 15 1 106. Dunallan, Part II 15 


By JOHN P. KENNEDY. 

07. Horse Shoe Robinson, Pt. 1..15 1 67. Horse Shoe Robinson, Pt. IL.15 


By CHAS. KINGSLEY. 

.39. The Hermits .20 I 64. Hypatia, Parti 15 

Part II 15 


By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 

254. Peter, the Whaler 29 i 335. The Young Foresters * 20 

322. Mark Seaworth 20 342. Salt Water * 20 

321. Round the World 20 , 355. The Midshipman * 20 


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25. Divorce ...20 96. Gideon Flcyce 20 

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.3-27. Harry Lorreouer* .20 , Jlyperion 20 

I 2. Outre- Aler 20 

By E. LYNN LINTON. 

275. lone Stewart 2^ 


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11. The Coming Race 10 

12. Leila; or,the Siege of GranadalO 

31. Ernest Maltravers 20 

32. The Haunted House, and 

Calderon the Courtier 10 

45, Alice; a sequel to Ernest 

Maltravers 20 

55. A Strange Story 20 

.59. Last Days of Pompeii 20 

81. Zanoni 20 

84. Night and Morning, Part I. .15 

Night and Morning, Part 11.15 

117. Paul Clifford 20 

121. Lady of Lyons 10 

128. Money 10 

152. Richelieu 10 

160. Rienzi, Part I 15 

Rienzi, Part II 15 

178. Pelham 20 

204. Eugene Aram 20 


LYTTON. 

22-3. The Disowned 20 

240 Kenelm Chillingly 20 

245. What Will He Do With It ?!.. 20 
What Will He Do With It ? II. 2o 

247. Devereux 20 

250. The Caxtons, Part 1 15 

The Caxtons, Part II 15 

253. Lucretia 

255. Last of the Barons, Pt I....j.i 5 

Last of the Barons, PtII 15 

259. The Parisians, Part I a5 

The Parisians. Part II 15 

271. My Novel, Part 1 20 

My Novel. Part II 20 

My Novel, Part III 20 

276. Harold, Part I.. 15 

Harold. Part II 15 

289. Godolphin 20 

294, Pilgrims of the Rhine * I 5 

317. Pausan-ias * I 5 


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70. The Berber 20 


By A. MATHEY. 

46. Duke of Kandos 20 | 60. The Two Duchesses 


.20 


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328. How It All Came Round. 


.20 


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33. John Halifax 20 

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312. Golden Girls 20 

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212. The Privateersman 20 

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139. Pike County Folks 20 

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83. Right and Wrong Uses of the 

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108. No Hew Thing 20 

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By LAU. OLIPHANT. 
196. Altiora Peto 20 


124. The Ladies Lindores. 
179. The Little Pilgrim. . . 


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.10 I 326. The Wizard’s Son* 20 


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112. Wanda, Parti 15 

“ Part II 15 

By JAMES PAYN. 

187. Thicker than Water 20 

330. The Canon’s Ward* 20 


127. Under Two Flags, Part I. . .20 
“ “ Part II... 20 

By LOUISA PARR. 

42. Robin 20 


By JANE PORTER. 


189. Scottish Chiefs, Part I. 


.20 


By CHARLES READE. 
28. Single Heart, Double Face. .10 

By A. M. P. ROBINSON. 
134. Arden 15 


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By R. P. REDCLIPP. 

16. Freckles 20 

By SIR H. ROBERTS. 

101. Harry Holbrooke • 20 


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123. A Sea Queen 20 

By Mrs. W. A. SAVILLE. 
27. Social Etiquette 15 

By SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

145. Ivanhoe, Parti , 15 

145. Ivanhoe, Part II .’ 15 


By Mrs. ROWSON. 

159. Charlotte Temple 10 

By GEORGE SAND. 

135. The Tower of Percemont..20 

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171. Tom Cringle’s Log 20 

By EUGENE SCRIBE. 

22.Fleurette 20 

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248. Life of Webster, Part 1 15 | 248. Life of Webster, Part II 15 

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125. Haunted Hearts 10 


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By W. M. THACKERAY.' 

141. Henry Esmond 20 

143. Denis Duval 10 

148. Catherine 10 

156. Lovel, the Widower 10 

164. Barry Lyndon £0 

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103, History of Pendennis Pt. 1 20 

History of Pendennis, Pt. II '.20 

211. The Newcoines, Part I 20 

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220. Book of Snobs 10 

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235. Adventures of Philip, Pt. 1 15 

Adventures of Philip. Pt. 11 15 

238. 1’he Virginians, Part 1 20 

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252. Critical Keviews, and Second 

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256. Eastern Sketches 10 

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94. Tempest Tossed, Part II 20 


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The Mysterious Island, Pt. II.. .15 
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80.- Science in Short Chapters 20 

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194. Widow Bedott Papers 20 

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lore Leaves from a Life 

in the Highlands 15 

' lygiene of the Brain. . . . 25 

lerkeley the Banker 20 

lomes Abroad 15 

Icott’s Lady of the Lake, 20 
I lodern Christianity a 
Civilized Heathenism.. 15 

I jife of Shelley 10 

i loldsmith’s Plays ; and 

Poems 20 

I i'or Bach and for All 15 

F ife of Scott 10 

f . '■>e Pathfinder 20 

i fhe Sergeant's Legacy. . 20 

i Ln Old Man’s Love 15 

f )ld La^ Mary 10 

i jife of Hume 10 

t Twice-Told Tales 20 

li .’he Story of Chinese 
_ Gordon, A. E. Hake... 20 

T lill and ’valley 15 

i Assays, by Emerson 20 

I Assays, by Geoi’ge Ehot. . 20 
S Icience at Home 20 

1 Grandfather’s Chair 20 

2 jife of Defoe 10 

T lomeward Bound 20 

i The Charmed Sea 15 

* jife of Locke 10 

f L Fair Device 20 

• Thaddensof Warsaw,... 20 

I jife of Gibbon 1C 

i )orot]^ Forster 20 

I Iwiss Family Robinson. . 26 
i Ihildhood of the World. . 10 

l*rincess Napraxine 25 

t jife m the Wilds 15 

Taradise Lost 20 

L’he Land Question 10 

Homer’s Odyssey 20 

jife of Milton 10 

Jocial Problems 20 

Che Giant’s Robe 20 

lowers not Reapers 15 

dozer’s Iliad SO 


897 Arabian Nights’ Enter- 
tainments.. 25 

893 Life of Pope 10 

399 John Holcfsworth 20 

400 Glen of the Echoes 15 

401 Life of Johnson 10 

402 How he Reached the 

White House 25 

403 Poems, by E. A, Poe 20 

404 Life of Southey 10 

405 Life of J. G. Blaine 20 

406 Pole on Whist 15 

407 Life of Burke 10 

408 The Brierfleld Tragedy.. 20 

409 Adrift \vith a Vengeance 25 

410 Life of Wordsworth 10 

411 Children of the Abbey. . . SO 

412 Poems, by Swinburne 20 

413 Life of Chaucer 10 

414 Over the Summer Sea... 20 

415 A Perilous Secret 20 

416 LaUa Rookh, by Moore. . 20 

417 Don Quixote 80 

418 “ I Say No,” by Collins. . 20 

419 Andersen’s Fairy Tales. . 20 

420 A Broken Wedding-Ring 20 

421 Aurora Leigh 20 

422 Cavendish Card Essays. . 15 

423 Repented at Leisure 20 

424 Life of Cowper, Smith. . . 10 

4^ Self-Help, by Smiles 25 

426 Narrative of A. Gordon 

Pym 15 

427 Life of Grover Cleveland -20 

428 Robinson Crusoe 25 

429 Called Back, by Conway. 15 

430 Bums’ Poems 20 

431 Life of Spenser 10 

432 The Gold Bug, by Poe, . . 15 

433 Wrecks in the Sea of Life 20 

434 Typhaines Abbey 25 

435 Miss Tommy, by Mulock. 15 

436 The Light of Asia 20 

437 Tales of Two Idle Ap- 

prentices 15 

438 The Assignation 15 

439 Noctes Ambrosian® 30 

440 History of the Mormons. 15 

441 Home as Found 20 

442 Taine’s English Litera- 

ture 40 

443 Bryant’s Poems 20 

444 An Ishmaelite 20 

445 The Rival Doctors 20 

446 Tennyson’s Poems 40 

447 The Murder in the Rue 

Morgue and Other Tales 15 

448 Life of Fredrika Bremer. 20 

449 Quisisana 20 

450 Whittier’s Poems 20 

451 Doris, Iw The Duchess. . 20 

452 Mystic London 20 

453 Black Poodle 20 

454 The Golden Dog 40 

455 Pearls of the Faith 15 

456 Judith Shakespeare 20 

457 Pope’s Poems SO 

453 Sunshine and Roses 20 

459 John Bull and His Daugh- 

ters, by Max o'Rell .... 20 

400 Galaski, by Bayne 20 

401 Socialism 10 

402 Dark Days 15 

403 Deerslayer, by Cooper... 30 
461 Two years before the 

Mast, by R. H. Dana, J r 20 
405 Earl’s Atonement 20 

460 Under the Will, by Hay 10 

467 Prairie, by Cooper 20 

468 The.Countof Talavera. . 20 

469 Chase, by Lermina 20 

470 Vic, by A. Benrimo 15 

471 Pioneer, by Cooper 25’ 

iTi Indian Song of Songs. . 10 


478 Christmas Stories 20 

474 A Woman’s Temptation. 20 

475 Sheep in Wolfs (Nothing. 20 

476 Love Works Wonders 20 

477 A Week in lullarney 10 

478 Tartarin of Tarascon.,.. 20 

479 Mrs. Brownmg’s Poems. 35 

480 Ahce’s Adventures 20 

481 Through the, Looking- 

Glass, by Lewis Carroll 20 

482 Longfellow’s Poems 20 

483 The Child Hunters 15 

484 The Two Admirals 20 

485 My Roses, by French .... 20 

486 History of the French 

Revolution. Vol. I 25 

486 History of the French 

Revolution. Vol. 11... 25 

487 Moore’s Poems 40 

488 VVater Witch 20 

489 Bride of Lammermoor.. . 20 

490 Black Dwarf 10 

491 Red Rover 20 

492 Castle Dangerous 15 

493 Legend of Montrose 15 

494 Past and Present 20 

495 Surgeon’s Daughter 10 

496 Woman’s Trials 20 

497 Sesame and Lihes 10 

498 Dryden’s Poems 30 

499 Heart of Mid-lothian 30 

500 Diamond Necklace 15 

501 The Pilot, by Cooper.... 20 

502 Waverley, by Scott 20 

503 Chartism, by Carlyle.... 20 

504 Fortunes of Nigel 20 

505 Crown of Wiki Ohves.. ., 10 

506 Wingand'Wing 20 

507 TheT’wo Wives 15 

508 Sartor Resartus 20 

509 Peveril of the Peak 80 

510 Ethics of the Dust 10 

511 Hood’s Poems 30 

512 Wyandotte, by Cower, . , 20 

513 Men, Women, and Lovers 20 

514 Early Kings of Norway . . 20 

515 The Pirate, by Scott 30 

516 Queen of the Air 10 

517 Heidenmauer, by Cooper 20 

518 Married Life, by Arthur, ^ 

519 Headsman, by Cooper... 20 

520 Jean Paul Fred. Richter. 10 

521 Seven Lamps of Archi- 

t€Cti.iro 20 

522 Carlyle’s Goethe, etc 10 

523 Coleridge’s Poems 30 

524 Bravo, by Cooper 20 

5^ Life of Heyne 15 

526 Campbell’s Poems 20 

527 Lionel Lincoln 20 

528 Voltaire and Novelis 15 

529 W’'ept of Wish-ton- Wish. 20 

530 In Durance ’Vile 10 

531 Keats’s Poems 25 

532 Afloat and Ashore 25 

533 Prmciples and Fallacies 

of Socialism 15 

534 Papa’s Own Girl 30 

535 Studies in Civil Service. . 15 

536 Scott’s Poems 40 

537 Lectures on Architecture 

and Pauitiiw, Ruskm. . 15 

538 The Ways of Providence, 

by Ai-thur 15 

539 Miles Wallingford, by J. 

F. Cooper 20 

510 Works of Virgil 25 

541 Heroes & Hero Worship, 

by Carlyle 20 

542 Stones of Venice, by Rus- 

kin, 3 vols,, each 20 

543 The Monikins, by Cooper 20 

544 Redgauntlet, by Scott... 25 

545 Home Scenes, by Arthur 


THE CELEBRATED 



Grand, Square and TJpriglit 



PIANOFORTES 



ARE PREFERRED BY THE LEADING ARTISTS. I 

The demands now made by an educated musical public are so exacting that very few 
Pianoforte Manufacturers can produce Instruments that will stand the test which merit 
requires. SOHMER & CO., as Manufacturers, rank amongst these chosen few, who are 
acknowledged to be makers of standard instruments. In these days, when Manufacturers 
urge the low price of their wares rather than their superior quality as an inducement to 
purchase. It may not be amiss to suggest that, in a Piano, quality and price are too in- 
separably joined to expect the one without the other. 

Every Piano ought to be judged as to the quality of its tone, its touch, and its work- 
manship ; if any one of these is wanting in excellence, however good the others may be, 
the instrument will be Imperfect. It is the combination of these qualities in the highest 
degree that constitutes the perfect Piano, and it is this combination that has given the 
“ SOHMER ” its honorable position with the trade and the pubUc. 

Received First Prize Centennial Exhibition, Philadelphia, 1876. 
Received First Prize at Exhibition, Montreal, Canada, 1881 and 1881 


SOHMER &L CO., Manufacturers, | 

149-155 E. 14th St., New York.^ 

























library of congress 


nODBB3DE7DA 





